Calasier Avamela
by Leonette
Summary: SLASH. Harry/Draco. Elf!Harry, Harry Potter is really an Elven Prince and he is in love with a human named Draco Malfoy. What lengths will he take to make Draco love him? Will bitter feelings rise? My first slash fic.
1. A Rescue and A Chance

A/N: Okay, I'm taking a step away from what I normally do to try my hand at slash. I didn't really like it at first but it kinda grows on you. I'll start out with some fluff. I don't really like touching the sexual element of it.

This is Elf!Harry, yes, but I do like those stories. Stick with what you like, that's what I say! I combined slash with that to make it seem a bit less daunting. And, it's Harry/Draco. That kinda grew on me too.

I got the names from a Common-to-Elvish website and I modified them a little bit to make them original.

Note:_ Italics_ _are Elvish and Drow tongue._

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 1: A Rescue and a Chance**_

Harry Potter had many titles by the time he'd left Hogwarts after his second year: the Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of Hogwarts (on two occasions) but Prince of a secret Elven Realm? It was unheard of. All because he wanted it to be kept a secret and so did his parents. For, he did have parents, even though they were thought dead. Their aliases were once James and Lily Potter and had asked their son to use the alias of Harry.

The Prince's true name, while in the secret Elven land of Valivial, was Hari Valadhiel and his parents, the King and Queen were Jaurion and Lindilwen. Their home was the castle of Ariador and they too, like Harry, had spent time in the human world to, "...better our knowledge of our mortal cousins." Lindilwen had told him. In Hari's opinion, the only purpose of the human world was to find a life parter or _Nienna_ (as it was called by the elves).

His father, the King, was proof of it. He had once been a mortal human and had fallen in love with Lindilwen, the Elven Princess of the time. They'd married in the human world and eloped to Valivial. The mortals thought that they had died at the hands of a Dark Wizard name Lord Voldemort, their only son with them. The reality was that they had fought and defeated Lord Voldemort who dared to hinder their departure.

There is nothing much to say about Hari's time at Hogwarts. He did not reveal his indentity to anyone except Dumbledore. He'd successfully pretended to be raised by foreign parents who did not know who he was and neither did he. Dumbledore had been a long time Elf-Friend (or _Elenshar, _in the elf tongue) and had kept Hari's secret. The story really begins when Hari had returned to Valivial after his second year.

In Valivial, the Prince Hari had many titles too but the one that was used the most was Calasier Avamela. The translation to mortal English is 'high one without love'. Hari left a trail of broken hearts behind him. He seemed to love no one or have any pleasure in any possible suitors in Valivial. The longest a relationship lasted was about a month and then, it crumbled one way or another. He was a serious High Elf and was hardly ever seen smiling. Most of his time was taken up with war. Battles against rebel Drows, Orcs, Trolls and other threatening creatures were fought with the Prince at the head of the Akhohr (the Valivi Army). As a consequence of it, he had great magical and physical strength and also many scars. The most distinctive of them all was a lighning-shaped scar on his forehead, the reminder of the battle of spells he'd waged with the last rebel Drow leader.

Jaurion and Lindilwen encouraged their son's enthusiasm with protecting their country but, still, they worried. Their son could not or would not love another. His cold demeanour had come out of nowhere and neither could remember when it started. So, they sent him to the mortal world in the hopes that he would take after his mother and find a Nienna there. After his first year at Hogwarts, they noticed a change in Hari. He became less focused and, during his free hours, he would often gaze into the distance. He was no more emotional but changed nonetheless. Then, after his second year at Hogwarts, he became even more so,

"_It is a good sign, my Nienna_." Jaurion commented one autumn evening, where, once again, they found their son daydreaming, "_Perhaps he has discovered Meleniel in mortals after all._" Meleniel was the elven deity of love,

"_But, perhaps,_" Lindilwen added, worriedly, "_this love does not give him the same favour. Do you remember when we were at Hogwarts?_"

"_I do._" Jaurion grimaced a little, "_You could not abide me. You preferred that Snape boy._"

"_He had his chance._" Lindilwen sighed, "_But, he grew too dark for me. He joined with Voldemort in the end. I could not possibly allow him to rule Valivial. Uteire and Athara would never forgive me if I made him my Nienna._" Uteire and Athara were the words that noble elves used for 'father' and 'mother' respectively,

Just then, Hari looked up. Jaurion smiled and extended his arms wide, "_My son! How are you this fine evening?_"

This warm greeting was met with a cold glare, "_Well, Uteire, as you know. I have been sent word of Drow activity in the North-East. I must depart tomorrow on the three day journey._"

With that, he rose and marched away, somber dark robes and hair sweeping behind him. Jaurion sighed, "_It is his thirteenth hundred birthday next year and still he has a heart of ice._ _Whatever shall we do, Lindil?_"

"_Be patient, my Nienna._" She said, sweeping back her red hair, "_Things can change when we least expect it._"

* * *

The next morning, they watched their son ride from Ariador in the front line. The elves of Vilivial called messages of farewell and good fortune, "_May Turil and Ortherion be with you!_" Turil and Ortherion were deities of war and often prayed to in need of victory. Hari's previous lovers were seen calling messages to the prince of their own, "_My heart will weep until it sees you again, my Prince_!" but he ignored them.

Prince Hari did not speak to any of his wellwishers while the rest of his army waved and accepted their messages. He scowled as one of his captains received a small bunch of flowers from a young girl. _Such weakness to be taken in by females._ He thought, bitterly. _Ridiculous._ These thoughts remained with him for the whole three days it took to reach the enemy encampment.

The plans were laid. They would attack by day when drows were weakest (and most noticeable). The only problem was that they seemed to have prisoners. The scout came back with reports of people in metal cages in the middle. If they attacked, they would probably kill the hostages. When the scout mentioned that most of them were humans, Hari's head suddenly shot up, suprising the people in the tent,

"_Did you behold their faces_?" He asked, a hint of unusual urgency in his voice,

"_Yes, my Prince_." The scout nodded, surprised at the Prince's strange behaviour, "_Some of them. There was one particular boy that remains in my mind. He looked just like a cherubim with pale features and of wealthy background, I'd wager. He was English-tongued and bore a silver ring._"

"_Can you estimate the age?_" The Prince's face grew more and more - there was no better word for it - frightened with each description,

"_About thirteen years, your Majesty._" Hari's green eyes widened alarmingly and then, he whirled round to face his commanders,

"_Take rest for a few hours. We attack at first light!_ _**Now!**_" Everyone hastened from the room, leaving Hari in the room alone. Sitting down, he tried to calm himself. _Come now, Hari. It may not be him you are thinking of. But, if it is..._

He placed his left hand upon his heart, a common gesture for praying elves. _O, deities of grace, protect him! O, long-neglected Meleniel, let your grace pass to him and protect my love!_ Laying his head on his arms, he sighed. He thought he must be one of the most ill-fated Valedhiel in the history of High Elves. After denying love for over ten thousand years, it hit him much too suddenly and much too impossibly.

Hari wondered whether this was a punishment from Meleniel for brutally breaking all those hearts and denying her prescence for so long. To fall in love with such a beautiful yet inaccessable mortal was such a torture for him. He'd heard many stories of unrequited love but none came close to describing the pain and hopelessness he felt.

Not only did that special one dislike him, no, he hated him. He insulted him, cursed him and made him feel unworthy of existing. For a Prince, this was an extremely disheartening feeling. _I should hate him. I should curse every fibre of his being. Yet, I still love him and cannot hate him. He is too perfect to hate. Yet... _The plan he'd been subconsciously crafting formed clearly in his head,

"_Your Majesty?_"

Talethion, his servant, poked his head through the tent flap. Starting, Hari's head shot off his arms, "_What is it?_"

"_You should take rest, Master. The sun will rise in three hours._"

"_I will take rest when I will._" Hari snapped, "_Begone. My mind requires no disturbance._"

With a bow, Talethion left. Hari never liked him. He was a small Fire Elf who had lived in the small island of Lindaria about fifty leagues across the sea from Valivial. He'd been a bard before, playing a lute in bars before Hari had picked him up. He'd shown some talent in battle, magic and servant duties but he had the annoying habit of sticking his head in where it wasn't wanted. Some elves would call it overenthusiasm. Hari called it being irritating.

Still, he could not send him away on that cause and he was a good worker so he had to keep him. Pushing Talethion out of his mind, he turned back to the plan. If the boy was injured and unconscious, his chance would come.

* * *

Hari did not sleep for a second. He stayed up all night, ignored two more interruptions from Talethion and armed himself ready for the assault. His sword was sharpened to its limit, his armour was polished and hardened and the Akhohr was prepared. There was no battle-cry from their Prince. He always went into battle silent and dignified. The only action he made was to push down his visor and silently point his sword directly at the encampment.

The Drow had expected them. They were not, as suspected, the magic-wielding, clever Drows but the ape-like drones with long arms, bony bodies, bent backs and bandy legs, specially bred to protect a fort when the powerful Drows were away. All of them were trained to scramble into enemy horses and attack the rider; a trademark skill of drones. The only good thing about drones were that they all had poor eyesight and could not use arrows or projectiles. This meant that arrows could be used effectively before the battle.

The army shot about thirty of them before they began spilling out of the fort, armed to the teeth and screeching. Then, knowing that a head-on charge would be better than keeping the position, he gave the signal and the Akhohr charged. Hari barely noticed the soldiers falling all around him. All he was interested in was beseiging the fort single-handed if necessary to reach the hostages and find whether he was one of them. The horse trampled the Drow, breaking their fragile bones and leaving them in a heap.

He fought off a drone that tried to unhorse him, then another. The third that caught him unawares threw him off his horse a second before he was impaled on Hari's sword. The horse was far too good to be used by a Drow drone and he gave a silent prayer to Rochendil, deity of war animals, that it would survive the battle. He continued on foot towards the centre, using fire magic to set the wooden buildings he checked through in the fort ablaze. Hari thought that they must use wood as an excuse to cut down Valivial's beloved forest and the hatred of the Drow within him burned. Elves loved forests and a sure way to make them your enemy was to fell them. Hari hated having to burn the wood but Drows hated fire and went mad with fright whenever confronted with it.

The Prince had long left his army behind at the gates and he could hear the battle behind him. He didn't care. All that mattered was to get through to the heart of the fort. He killed about ten Drow drones before he finally reached it. The hostages were all in cages, as stated, hung on gallows by chains. There was only one Drow present and Hari knew he was the leader. He was the most ape-ish, had the most ropes of fangs and bones around his neck and even carried a roughly hewn wooden staff. This Drow obviously knew some magic. To his horror, he did have him. The boy was out of his cage, almost naked due to the many slashes made to the clothes. He lay motionless in front of the Drow leader, which filled Hari with icy cold terror.

By now, Hari had a freely-bleeding arm and his armour was covering in white drow blood. Still, he was strong and had the will to fight. As long as he wasn't dead...

"_So, you are the High Elf Princling?_" The Drow leered in his own tongue, "_We have something very precious of yours here. I was about to kill him before you arrived as payment for your attack._"

Hari was thankful for the visor since his face betrayed anger and hatred, "_You will do no more harm to him while I stand!_" With that, he lashed out with his sword. This collided with the staff and cleaved about halfway through the wood. Sparks and dark magical energy spilled out and his fingers tingled unpleasantly with it. Pulling the blade from him, he watched as the enchantments on his sword clashed with the weak magic of the staff and shattered it.

The Drow's leer had vanished, "_You'll pay for that!_" He made to the boy, who was weakly opening his eyes. This was immediately prevented by Hari's sword, that flashed onto the Drow's chest armour and sent him flying back. Hari blocked one attack, then the second. The Drow tried to chop off his hand but only succeeded in making a scrape on the armour. His third swipe of the sword caught the gap between the chest and arm armour and the Drow's arm was lost. The boy was staring at the fight like a little owl, following the progress of the swords.

It was all over when Hari drew his dagger from within his armour and plunged it into the fragile neck. Armless in more ways than one, the Drow leader fell dead. Hari could hear his soldiers approaching. They were pushing back the Drow. The day was won for sure. But Hari did not care. Instead, he sheethed his sword and dagger, tied his staff back in place on his back and knelt beside the boy.

The mortal boy's wounds were not deep but he was covered in blood. Hari whispered soothingly in Elvish. He knew the boy would not understand but Elvish was always very calming to mortals, "_Do not fear, Draco. I am your lover. I will take care of you._" Draco gazed up at the Prince, seeing nothing but a helmet and visor. Then, his eyes closed.

* * *

The noise around him was dying. The Drow drones were heard being put to flight among the trees. He could hear the Akhohr shouting a victory call but he barely heard it. The buildings burned all round him, making the air hotter and denser. A small noise alerted him. Looking round, he saw his faithful horse, limping slightly but unbeaten, "_Helin._" He patted her shimmering grey head thankfully and used a small healing spell to get rid of the arrow wound on her flank. She knelt down obligingly and allowed Hari to mount with Draco held in front of him. Once she had risen, soldiers were running to the scene,

"_Your Majesty!_"

"_We've beaten them back!_"

"_Free the hostages!_" Hari commanded, "_Those with horses shall transport them! Search for the wounded! Make a record of the dead!_" With that, he left the smouldering fort with the unconscious Draco held in front of him. _At last, a chance!_ Carefully, he made his way to the camp and was first to arrive back there, "_Any trouble here?_" He asked the guards on duty,

"_None here, Your Majesty. We saw the surviving Drows flee to the North._"

Hari nodded and continued into the camp. After depositing Draco in the Healer's tent, he returned to his own tent and sat down. _He'll be safe for the moment with the Healers. It is custom to keep any humans in the Elven Realms in an enchanted sleep until we decide their fate._ He thought of the humans that had settled down as elves in the past. Others had got homesick and asked to be returned to their world. They would have to forget about their time in the elf world, of course, but they were happy to be back.

Then, a new problem arose. Draco had a comfortable life back in the human world. He seemed to have every luxury his loving family could offer. _There is a chance that Draco would refuse to remain here. He does not know of the difference in time between the world of the elves and the human world. _The time difference can sometimes fluctuate and be inconstant but it is estimated that a hundred years of elven world time is about one year of human world time.

_Even if he had the desire to remain, from what I know of human love, a male loving another of the same gender is not looked upon kindly. If Draco has such views on those with non-magical parentage, he cannot imagine that he will accept my feelings or even like me._ Hari began to worry. Already, old hurts were starting to sting and he could not bare to imagine what would happen if Draco rejected him. That would be the final blow. If that happened, he vowed to himself that he would never go back to the human world again. He would not bare to face Draco after such a humiliation.

The tent flap opened. Thinking that it was probably Talethion with news, Hari looked up reluctantly. It wasn't Talethion but a captain of his army. Her helm was under her arm and she had a scroll in her hand, "_I have the record of casulties on our side, Your Majesty._"

"_Speak on._" Hari thought that this would at least distract him from the uncomfortable thoughts of the flaws in his plans,

"_We have had around thirty fatalities but we dealt the Drow a more severe blow. We do not know the exact number but the bodies are being counted as I speak. There are twelve hostages, eight of them human, only half of which is in adulthood. All are safe in the Healer's care. The humans are under enchantments of sleep._"

"_Where is Talethion?_" Hari asked, "_He ought to give this report, not trouble you with this task._"

The captain suddenly looked grim, "_You have not heard, Your Majesty?_"

"_I would not ask if I had._" Hari answered, coldly,

"_Talethion Caradel is dead, Your Majesty._"

To say that Hari was not startled would be untrue. Still, he felt no significent grief, since he'd had felt nothing significent towards him in life. After a half-second pause, Hari stood, "_I shall pay my respects as his master and leader of the army. Lead me to his body._"

"_It shall be done, Your Majesty._"

With that, Hari was led through the camp and into the tent he knew from the black owl symbol of Garthal (deity of death and rebirth) was the morgue tent. Sure enough, when he entered, there were bodies of the dead soldiers lying across the floor on white cloth with their weapons and possessions laid around them. Around the end was Talethion. According to the witnesses, he'd been stabbed through the chest by the same Drow-drone that had unhorsed him. Hari spoke a word of farewell and then rose to give the orders of what to do with the bodies,

"_Many of these who lie dead are of Valivial yet there are a few who are of other lands. If they are of Valivial, we shall take them to their families and I want volunteer soldiers who will bare the soldiers of other regions to their people._"

Hari never involved himself with the dead. He never liked to stay in a room with lifeless bodies. So, instead, he marched out and entered the tent with the white dove symbol of Fallena (deity of healing) above it. He found Draco among the humans. All were asleep, even if uninjured. Draco was looked like the youngest of them all and most injured. Hari knelt beside him and looked down at his face.

It was washed clean of blood but it only served to highlight how pale he was. As Hari gazed at him, he knew that he would never allow Draco to leave him.

* * *

A/N So, how was that? I know, not much slash in this but I do like to tell a good story. This was just a bit of setting the scene. Reviews will be much appreciated and go easy on me!


	2. Vengeance

A/N: Wow, judging by the amount of reviews, favourite story and story alerts this is getting, I must be doing something right! I've got the bad feeling that this story'll overshadow Power of the Moon!

**tosha: **As the Italians say 'Pulling at the olive won't make it ripen faster'. Here's the next chapter and, no, this isn't all there is to it!

**TheGodMachine: **Really? Well, I've noticed there isn't enough of Elf!Harry stories! Which is a shame, really, 'cos I really like them.

**EngelCre: **Have you? Well, I hope what happens isn't what your idea is! I'd hate to make this story too predictable.

**cleresta: **It's a good review that keeps me going!

**Juni: **Your wish is my command!

Now, I did this chapter while listening to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. I'm just testing to see if it makes a difference. It's the music that accompanies Aragorn's revival at the river. I love that, I think it's really beautiful.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 2: Vengeance**_

Hari had decided to accompany Talethion's body to Lindaria. The reason he gave was that it was his duty as his master. The real reason was that Lindaria's laws were more lax than Valivial and the people more tolerant. Many items that were banned in Valivial could be bought without trouble at Lindaria. It wasn't uncommon to see a Drow or even some Orcs in taverns or even in the streets. Valivial would have never allowed this. Amazingly, Lindaria had fewer wars; partly because the monarchy preferred negotiating to conflict. Valivial elves rarely visited and Hari had to deal with some controversy when he hired Talethion to his side.

The Prince, however, was a regular visitor and thought no ill of the place. True, it was not as grand as Valivial and there was the problem of being recognised by Drows. He had an effective disguise, however, and only one person knew who he was. That person was sitting in the usual corner of _The Crossed Dragons _tavern when Hari arrived. He was a half-Drow, half-Wood Elf, named Noalith.

After presenting Talethion's family with his body, the Prince made an excuse of spying on the Drows and entered the tavern. Spotting Noalith, he ordered a drink and sat down beside him. Noalith's pale lips extended in a smile and whispered in his drawling Drow tongue, "_Well, look who's here? Back from the wars and still able to come here without causing a disturbance._"

"_I have come on business, Noalith._" Despite the half-Drow being arrogant and sardonic, Hari could tolerate his company. It was proven that he was not allied with his enemies, "_Talethion met his downfall in the battle but two days ago. His body was given to his family._"

"_I am dreadfully grieved to hear it, Hari._" He didn't sound like he meant it, though. It was Noalith who had recommended Talethion for Hari's services, "_So, you are searching for a new servant, I trust? I can find someone here who might be willing._"

"_Perhaps they will not, though._" Hari pointed out, "_Seeing Talethion's fate._"

"_You may be right._" Noalith fixed him with a searching look and, remembering that he had the gift of _Rinatula _(the ability to see into minds), Hari looked away, "_Try to hide it all you wish but I can see that something else bothers you._"

"_Do you know what they call me in Valivial?_" Hari asked, thinking that there was no point hiding it,

"_Calasier Avamela. The high one without love. You are known as that here too._"

"_Is that so?_" Hari gazed around at the assorted creatures around him and took a gulp of mead, "_However, it seems that I am not as loveless as you or I expected._"  
Noalith raised his dark eyebrows, "_Am I attempting to see too far or are you suggesting that Calasier Avamela is in love?_"

"_I am._" Hari replied, dully. Draco had been taken to Ariador and the Prince had commanded him to be left asleep until his return, "_But, it is a human that my heart is so impassioned with._"

"_A mortal?_" The half-Drow's pale eyes bored into Hari's, "_Well, this is some interesting news. Are you so dull of spirit because he will not live long or is it something other?_"  
Hari frowned. He was accustomed to Noalith knowing things without being told but it didn't stop him being irritated by it, "_You have seen who it is?_"

"_His face is clear in your mind, Hari. Your thoughts are near all of him. A thirteen-year-old English wizard whom you have met in your voyages in the human world. And, quite a pretty one, I must say. But, come. It cannot be his gender that makes you seem unable to approach him._" Noalith had a point. It was not seen as unnatural to have a Nienna of the same gender. Hari sighed,

"_It is this, my friend. He has met my human alias, yes, but I am hated by him. It was painful to masquerade as an enemy. I dared not approach him for I was sure that his rejection would salt the wounds._"

"_Indeed._" Noalith nodded, "_Depend upon it, a broken heart has more pain than any spear and sword can procure. Still,_" He moved a little closer to Hari, glaring at him, "_can you not be moved to hatred? He hurts you without a care!_"

"_I cannot._" Hari shook his head, "_My love for him eclipses all entrances for hate._" He drained his tankard dolefully.

Noalith seemed to think for a while and then say, "_If you cannot hate then hurt him as he hurt you._"

"_What do you speak of?_"

Noalith's eyes grew bright and he leaned in conspiratorially, "_Make an enchantment upon him to make his heart so full of love for you that it may burst. But, you shall not return it. Talethion has done you more of a service than you can imagine. In dying, he has left you an opening. Keep the boy by your side in his stead. He will always be with you yet never shall he receive the love he craves. Neglect will carve scars deeper than any. Treat him coldly, pretend to love another, only do him such injury that he has dealt you._"

No matter how well people in Valivial thought him, Hari did not mind taking an underhand method in something. He'd been in trouble for doing this sort of thing twice and both times, his parents had managed to steer him away from them. A long repressed feeling stirred in Hari's chest and wicked thoughts began to seep into his mind. A desire for vengeance welled up inside him. _To hurt him as I was hurt..._

"_I see the brilliance of it._" Hari nodded, "_Yet, such enchantments are difficult, not to mention illegal in my country. Bewitchments to enforce love upon another is an offence, as is any bewitchment upon a human_"

"_That never bothered you, Hari._" Noalith pointed out, shrewdly,

"_Indeed. Yet, weaving magic upon his judgment is tedious and must be repeated._"

"_I know._" Noalith then stood up, "_I can show you a more reliable and safe method. Come with me._"

Hari followed Noalith, careful to keep watch for either of the two guards that had stayed in the boat waiting for him. They marched down a smooth sloping street. The sea laid about before them above the roves of the white buildings, glistening in the sunlight. Hari liked this view. Valivial was many leagues from the sea and the sea was invisible even from the topmost tower of Ariador.

Noalith led him into a small apothecary almost hidden beneath a bridge that extended across the street. Hari had not been inside this one. It was dark with blacked-out windows and only a few glowing red light glasses. Hari looked around. The shelves were covered in all sorts of items that were illegal in Valivial and some, Hari suspected, were illegal in Lindaria too.

There seemed to be no one there but Noalith pulled Hari over to a shelf full of vials of potion. He didn't have to read the labels on each of them to know what they were, "_Love potions?_"

"_Yes, Hari._" Noalith nodded, "_This is my shop and these potions were made by very skilled brewers. They're of good value. I'll sell you some if you like. With sovereign discount, of course._"

Love potions were a banned substance in Valivial. To be caught making it or in possession of it earned the perpetrator fifty years imprisonment. A user would suffer a worse punishment still. It was considered a terrible offence but Hari did not think of laws. His eye had fallen on the smallest bottle, which was full of blood-red liquid and stopped with wax. Seeing him looking, Noalith smiled,

"_You have a good eye, Hari. This is a beauty of a potion. Its effects are permanent and only be removed by the user. No need to keep renewing it._"

"_What are its effects?_" Hari asked,

"_Well, all one has to do is smear a drop on each of your victim's eyelids, while they are asleep preferably, and then smear the last of it upon your face. I suggest upon your eyes as well, Hari. Your eyes are your most distinguishing feature. The enchantment is so that they will fall desperately in love with you as soon as they encounter you. In time, the charm shall become the victim's true feelings and the potion shall seep from their eyes in tears._"

"_How long will this take?_"

"_Oh, it all depends but I do know that, if the victim is spurned, then the potion shall go more quickly._"

Hari picked up the bottle and stared intently at it. _If I use this, Draco will be compelled to stay as my servant. I must spurn him to hasten its effects, _"_Very well, Noalith. What is your price?_"

* * *

Noalith sold Hari the bottle at a low price. After hiding it within his robes, he said farewell to Noalith and retraced his steps back to the harbour. His journey back to Ariador was uneventful compared to what the Prince was used to. There were no ambushes, merely a stray halfling that tried to pickpocket him. The Prince broke his fingers without looking down.

The journey took three impatient days and, as soon as he arrived at the palace, he hurried to Draco. Draco was in a small room on the ground floor. All of the other human hostages had awoken and gone. Still, he lay enchanted, just as planned. Closing the door carefully behind him, Hari crossed to the window and closed it, pausing to listen for anyone coming. What he was about to do would be the worst offence he'd committed. His parents had warned him that, if he broke another law, they would not keep it quiet.

He felt guilty already. Noalith's reasoning was weakening as he looked into Draco's face. _He is so innocent. He spoke such venom because he does not know what poison it is. He thinks he knows yet he is ignorant of it. He is ignorant of the pains of unrequited love. Should I be the one, who loves him so, to inflict such pain upon him?_ It didn't seem fair. The small crystal bottle was cold. It had not absorbed any heat from his body, despite having been hidden inside his robes for three days.

_What if this is poison? What if I take it too far and make the boy destroy himself?_ _No,_ his eyebrows furrowed, _no, I shall not do it. I will not enforce what Draco cannot choose upon the one I love._ With that, he resolutely pushed open the window and retracted his arm to throw the bottle out of the window. _Noalith, I defy you! You hatemonger, evoking such unwanted hatred upon me! I will love Draco whether he loves me or not! I shall watch him and protect him, only to preserve that mortal beauty._

Then, he paused and looked back at Draco. _Yet, he will never love me. And, he is mortal. Whether by unhappy fate or by the hands of time, he will die. And, I, condemned to my own life, must remain in Valivial, forever loveless, cheerless and heirless. The Valedhiel line shall be broken. Should I be condemned to this fate?_ Steeling himself, he closed the window again and sat beside Draco,

"_May Meleniel forgive me._" He murmured, as he slowly uncorked the bottle and poured a blood-red drop upon his finger. With some reluctance, he extended it and smeared it upon Draco's left eyelid. He gave no movement but the potion vanished from sight as soon as he'd withdrawn his finger. Solemnly, he repeated this with the other eyelid. The rest he smeared upon his eyelids as instructed. The empty bottle was crushed to powder in his hands and taken away by the gathering wind as he extended his hand outside.

Hari privately began to hope that Draco would never lay eyes upon him, that the potion would never take effect. _This is no time for weakness. It is done and must be done. I must be cruel to be kind. _Just as he passed Draco's bed, he bent over him and kissed his forehead. With a heavy heart, he moved from the room.

* * *

Draco woke slowly, taking in the fact that he was lying in bed. _Was those creatures just a nightmare, then? Was it just a dream?_ Yet, he recalled everything with such frightening clarity. The black-skinned, ape-like creatures pulling him from the grounds of Malfoy Manor and finding himself in a cage. Being unable to understand any of the language they spoke and the horror and pain he'd endured. Then, there had been an attack on the place. He'd been taken out of his cage and a man in armour, a knight with a helmet-covered face, had fought with his captor. The one who'd pulled him out of his home. The knight had killed him and then, come to Draco's side. He'd cradled him and said something. He did not understand the words but they were comforting and calming, unlike the language of his captors. Then, it had all been black.

_But I never remember dreams this clearly. _Deciding that it was safe, he opened his eyes. This was not Malfoy Manor. He didn't recognise this place yet he was not afraid of it. It was lit with bright sunlight streaming through the window. The sheets were made of soft white material and the place had a strange delicate beauty about it. Sliding out of bed, he gazed out of the window. Before him was a completely unfamiliar garden. No snow lay yet he could tell it was winter. The trees still had leaves but they glittered white and silver, as did the frost-covered grass.

He didn't have nearly long enough to take in the wonders of it before the door opened. A tall woman entered. She was clad in simple green, with a long gold cloak and a white sweeping veil covered her head. Her dark hair hung out of it and she carried folded grey clothes in her arms, "Your clothes, young sir." She said, in plain English. Draco was grateful to hear a tongue he understand,

"Where am I?" He asked, without hesitation. The woman smiled,

"Oh, of course, you would not know. This is the palace of Ariador, home to the King and Queen of Valivial."

"King and Queen of...palace of..._what_?" _She can't speak good English,_ was his immediate thought, _so she's using her own language. _However, she smiled patiently,

"The Elven land of Valivial. It is not in the human world. This is the world of elves." With that, she pushed back her veil to reveal very pointed ears.

Draco's head was reeling. He'd heard of elves in Muggle stories but never thought them to be real. The woman deposited the clothes on the bed and crossed to the window, where he was, "From the ancient oak of Elenya to the falls of Tarion is Valivial. Beyond Elenya is the land of Alqualond, with its many rivers and harbours. Beyond the falls of Tarion is the mountainous region of Ithil'orad, where I was born." She suddenly looked rather sad. Draco, now rather curious, asked,

"Why are you here, now?"

She gave him a rather mournful look, "My family lived in the mountains until we were attacked by Wargs."

"Wargs?"

"Wolves bred simply to kill. They are used by Drows and Orcs but hardly ridden. They are far too vicious to tame. They inhabit the mountains in caves mostly."

"I'm sorry." Draco tried to sound like he meant it but the woman seemed unperturbed by his answer,

"That was over two hundred years ago, of course. But, never shall I forget the day when the Queen Lindilwen saw me fleeing from the Warg and shot it as it came. I am most indebted to her. I am Arawen, her lady-in-waiting."

"Is this Queen Lindilwen queen of Valivial?" He asked, trying to get the pronunciation right,

"Indeed, yes. King Jaurion and Queen Lindilwen rule this kingdom. They have a son, as well. Prince Hari. I expect you'll seen them soon."

Arawen went outside to let Draco get changed. The clothes were a soft material, not unlike velvet, with a silvery sheen when it caught the light. When he'd finished, Arawen beckoned him to follow her, "Come. I'll show you a wonderful sight of the kingdom of Valivial."

Draco said nothing as they began to climb floors. He wished Arawen would slow down so he could take in every inch of the place. Everything was intricately decorated, looking simple at first glance but having so much to see close up. It was obvious that the place was a palace. There was an echo of grandeur without excessive extravagance.

They passed others which Draco supposed were elves, all wearing shimmering, beautiful clothes in varying colours and ornamentation. Some ignored them, some glanced at Draco with inquisitive eyes and others stopped them to talk to Arawen in that same unknown language which Draco could not understand. Still, he listened. It was lyrical and elegant, just like the language the knight had spoken to him. When she was not sidetracked, Arawen pointed out the various artifacts that had been descended through hundreds of generations.

At last, they came to a vast balcony with marble railings carved like rose bushes. Statues of a long gone king and queen guarded the entrance to it from the outside, both clutching swords and wearing helmets. It was a little chilly and Draco pulled his cloak around him quite unnecessarily. The clothes were very efficient in keeping out the cold. The floor, though so shiny that it reflected him like a mirror, was not slippery and he made it to the balcony without slipping. Perhaps it was the magic of the place that made it so safe. Arawen stretched out her arms, "There it is. Valivial."

Draco gasped. Glinting rooftops speckled amongst trees and roads cutting through them spread out as far as he could see. The winter sun shone bright white from the strangely blue sky and its light shone all around. It was then that he realised how high up they were. Elves below in the vast grounds walled by white walls looked like ants and he saw that another balcony stuck out further below them. A stairway on each side of the balcony on which he stood led down to it. This one was covered in frosty grass and frosted vines overhung its railings. _To think wizards never knew of such a place!_ Arawen smiled happily at Draco's amazement,

"I'll leave you for a moment, shall I? I'll be with my Queen."

Draco didn't mind her going. He felt no fear of being alone here. However, it was when she left that a fearful thought struck him. _How long have I been away from home? _He could not remember how long he'd been a prisoner and he could have been unconscious for days. _What on earth must Mother and Father be doing now?_ _Mother must be frantic by now._

Just then, a voice below alerted him to someone below. Two more elves. Ducking down instinctively, he peered through a gap between two railings as the pair came to the railings. They were talking in what Draco supposed was Elvish. The one on the right was wearing black robes and his shoulder-length fair hair stuck out against his brown skin. But Draco paid very little attention to him. The other elf had long dark hair which was decorated with a delicate silver circlet. His clothes were richer than any he'd seen and seemed to glow slightly in the sun.

It was his voice that took Draco's breath away. It was more beautiful and more melodic than any he'd heard. He thought about closing his eyes and just sitting there, listening to it. But the elf's back was turned and he was seized be a desire to see his face. Quicker than he thought, the conversation ended and the other elf marched back the way he came.

The dark-haired elf turned at last and looked to the side. His dark hair caught the light as it swished in the air and sparkled like many stars in the night's sky. The air seemed to become suddenly airless. He was breathing rather fast. This elf was unquestionably the most beautiful creature Draco had ever laid eyes on. He could not be an ordinary elf. His skin shone moon bright and his bright green eyes were intense as he gazed into the distance.

Draco could not tear his eyes away from such wondrous beauty. Wild thoughts and desires came into his head. All that mattered in the world was that he kept his eyes upon the elf. All thought of home and his parents were driven clean out of his head, which had become strangely light and empty. As quietly as he could, he moved towards the staircase to his left so the elf would not see him. He needed to be closer.

He hid behind a tall pole baring an dark lamp on top. The elf had turned his face back to the town and his profile was visible again. What felt like an electric shock struck him as he caught sight of the face again. He did not remain secret for long however. As soon as he'd taken another few steps, the elf heard his footsteps and looked round.

Those stunning green eyes fixed upon him. Draco felt naked, as though he could hide nothing from him. Such magnetic power emanated from him that Draco merely stood, gaping at him in awe. After a moment of them staring at each other, the elf gave him a rather contemptuous look, "You are the human, are you?"

"Y-yes." Draco gasped. The voice was just as wonderfully beautiful when it spoke in English, too. The elf, however, gave him a dark look,

"Is _that _how humans address a prince?"

"Oh!" Draco gasped. He could feel his cheeks flushing uncomfortably, "I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I-I didn't know!" He floundered under the intense gaze and knew that he must look like a total idiot. He bowed to try and hide his burning face,

"Perhaps you shall know me better, hereafter." The Prince lifted a hand and beckoned him with a finger, "You may not know but my servant, Talethion, fell in the battle in which you were saved. I am presently looking for a new one."

A wild hope stole over Draco. _Oh, I wish I could serve him,_

"Tell me, boy, what are you called?"

"Oh, Draco, S-Sire." He stuttered,

"Draco, how do you like Valivial? If you know what that is, of course." He added, rather disdainfully which made Draco's face feel even hotter,

"I-I like it very much, Your Majesty. It has so many w-wonders." _The greatest wonder, though, is the Prince,_

"Indeed." The Prince then turned to leave, "The post of my personal Palace servant is open, Draco. He that is chosen must stay by my side always unless instructed. Think on that and think of whether you wish to remain here or return to your home." With that, he left, leaving Draco as red-faced and breathless as though he'd run a marathon.

* * *

Hari turned a corner away from the balcony and began to tug at his long hair, an unconscious action he used to express nerves or discomfort. He had not expected to meet Draco so soon but, now that he had, the plans were already in motion.

* * *

A/N: Ooh! Our plot thickens!


	3. Maltandir

A/N: Nooooo!! School's started again!

_****_

njferral: Oh, well. Makes a better story.

TheGodMachine: I bet you don't like the sound of Noalith one bit. Did anyone?

EngelCre: As a very wise man said (a cookie for anyone who knows who!), 'the trouble is, people do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.'

evildictionaryninja: Well, I did that conflict in Hari's head to keep you on the edge of your seat!

UnderCertainCircumstances: Well, my Hari is very different from Harry. Expect more differences!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 3: Maltandir**_

Lindilwen was in her chamber when Arawen arrived back from her assigned mission to meet with the human boy when he awoke and, then, report back to her mistress, "_Ah, Arawen,_" The Queen smiled, with the gracious manner she always used when addressing servants and people of a lesser status than herself (though, as she was very often told, she did not exercise this same attitude towards her equals), "_is he well?_"

"_Very well, Your Highness._" After a polite curtsey, she took the unspoken invitation to sit down, "_He told me that his name was Draco. He observes Ariador in wonder and has no visible thought of returning home._"

"_I see._" Lindilwen nodded, "_That would benefit us._" She added, without really meaning to. Arawen frowned,

"_What do you mean by that, if I may ask, My Lady?_"

"_Oh!_" The Queen realised that she hadn't confided in what she was planning to her lady-in-waiting, "_Do excuse me. I have not told you._" She sighed and tossed back some of her long dark red hair, "_My dear lady-in-waiting, you have been in my service before my son was but one thousand years old. Do you remember a time when he was not as cold and shielded as he is now?_"

"_In all honesty, your Highness, no._" Arawen shook her head, "_To me, he has always seemed to be Calasier Avamela._"

"_Yes._" It pained Lindilwen to hear that name used in reference to her son and this time was no exception, "_I know not the source of the Prince__'__s frozen heart but I have sought to make it flesh once more and allow him the freedom of love. I prayed to Meleniel to bless him with her influence but to no avail. I have had him meet suitors from Valivial and other lands. Yet, all I do is bring hurt and heartbreak to those poor people._"

Arawen nodded sadly but didn't comment,

"_So, I have stopped and who can blame me? Even if I continued, the news of __'__Calasier Avamela__'__ has spread and none will come to seek the Prince__'__s heart._" She gave a melancholy sigh. It had been a terrible time as his mother to watch her son show such cruelty to innocent suitors,"_In my vain hope, I asked many people close to him such as the Akhohr__'__s captains and the Nimohtar to keep an eye on him to see any sign of attraction toward another. I do admit to spying on my son in my desperation and I have prayed to Orthion to forgive me for such trespass upon him._" Orthion was the deity of parents and families,

"_Have you had any success?_" Arawen asked, carefully,

"_Until now, no. However, in the overthrow of the Drow fort, Maltandir caught a glimpse of emotion towards Draco. He saw the Prince cut down the Drow that kept Draco with fury and force. Then he took the boy gently in his arms and whispered something he did not hear before taking him to the encampment upon Helin._"

"_There is hope, then?_"

"_Hope, yes, and more, I hope._" Lindilwen grew happier as she spoke, "_Is the fact that the Prince ordered Draco to stay until he returned so he may decide himself a good sign? If, perhaps, we could persuade him to make Draco his new servant in Talethion__'__s place…if Draco is willing, of course…_" She added on an afterthought but then trailed off thoughtfully.

Just then, voices and two sets of footsteps were heard coming up the stairs to the Queen's chamber (the King and Queen's quarters were at the very top of Ariador). Both of them stood up, for they recognised both of those voices. There was a brisk knock on the door, "_Enter, friend._"

The door opened and two male elves entered the room. One was the Prince and the other was Maltandir. At first glance, Maltandir was an elf and a high-born one at that but there were several obvious errors in his appearance that told them that he was not a pure elf. His small fair beard (Elves very rarely grew beards) was coarse as a thorn bush, as was his short fair hair. This was a sign of some human blood in him. His golden tan showed that he was also descended, however slightly, from Drows. However, standing next to the austere Prince, Maltandir looked benevolent with his kind features and soft eyes the colour of aquamarine.

The Prince, inclining his head in respect, spoke first, "_Athara, I have decided upon a replacement for Talethion._" Lindilwen and Arawen stood a little straighter and even Maltandir turned towards him, astonished. If Hari had chosen a different candidate, it would put their plan into jeopardy,

"_You__'__ve made a very quick decision, my son._" The Queen suggested, thinking that she might as well delay his decision however she can, "_Surely, you should tarry a little for two reasons. You may make a rash decision and you should give respect to Talethion._"

"_I know this, Athara._" The Prince was not fooled and he was known to be stubborn, "_However, my decision is made. I will employ the human boy that was saved from the Drow fort. Draco, I believe his name is._"

Lindilwen's heart gave a leap. This not only hastened their plan but it also proved their assumptions. If Hari would employ a human, it proved that he must have feelings for him, "_Have you confirmed this with Draco?_"

"_I have told him that the post is open and he gave no sign of wanting to refuse. Does this go well with you, Athara?_"

This was more than she could of asked for. Lindilwen was delighted, "_It does, my son._"

"_Then, I take my leave. Maltandir._" With that, he left. Once his footfalls had faded, Maltandir turned to the Queen and bowed. His black court robes swishing, he took the invitation to sit. He only wore those robes when visiting Ariador and Lindilwen always thought he looked strange in them. She was more used to seeing him in his golden and brown Nimohtar clothes. Nimohtar were rangers; each land had their own order of them and Maltandir was head of the Valivial order. In Valivial, they would either hunt the enemy themselves or, when asked, would give service alongside the armies of that land,

"_Verimir,_" Lindilwen smiled, "_this has gone better than I could have hoped._"

Maltandir's birth name was Verimir Moorefield, a name extending from a long gone human ancestor. Despite his odd name, he had risen very far in his life and his story was widely known. He had been born in the human world from elf parents (some elves chose to live in the human world as mortals, though this was very rare) and his family had been killed shortly after his first birthday. He'd been found and taken in by a Elven family whose tradition dictated that all males gave service to the Akhohr and Verimir had been no exception.

He'd defected after two hundred years of service and dishonored. Then, he was disowned by the family and was left to manage alone. He joined the Nimohtar and, after a thousand years, emerged as the head of the order. Maltandir was the name given to him by his fellow rangers, which meant 'golden wanderer'. All Nimohtar were given a colour that suited them and all were known as a different thing in each land. The Valivial Nimohtar were known as wanderers. He was the first Nimohtar to be given a Lordship for his services. Lindilwen knew all this since she'd been told firsthand by Maltandir, for they had known each other since the Queen was in her hundreds (which was childhood by elf standards),

"_Indeed, yes._" Maltandir nodded, "_I spotted Arawen taking Draco up to the balcony so I took the Prince to the Areola garden below it. They met there as I planned. I think our work here is done, Your Highness. We ought to leave them to get closer to one another. Love works best when left to its own devices._"

"_I do hope that Draco shall be his Nienna._" Arawen said, smiling, "_He seems so charming._"

Just then, more footsteps came and Jaurion arrived. Maltandir and Arawen bowed and curtsied before the King sat down beside his wife, "_What are you all doing here in secret? Why have I not been informed?_"

Lindilwen rolled her eyes, "_Because you will keep nothing from your son if asked._"

"_Is it about Hari?_" Jaurion's eyebrows raised, "_Because I don__'__t know if I told you but he__'__s been acting a bit strangely lately. Y__'__know, as soon as he came back from Lindaria, he wouldn__'__t talk to anyone. He even went straight past me and straight to the human boy__'__s room!_"

Lindilwen understood when the King thought it was strange. Despite the Prince's cold demeanor, he was always respectful and polite to his parents, "_We think that it is because the Prince is in love._"

Jaurion blinked, "_Hari? In love?_"

"_With the human boy, Draco._" Maltandir explained, "_At least, he has taken an interest in him. You noticed that he instructed Draco to remain._"

"_What__'__s his surname?_"

Lindilwen realised that she didn't know and looked to Arawen for help, "_Oh, it__'__s Malfoy._" The King and Queen gasped in shock. They had not expected this in the slightest,

"_Malfoy?_"

"_Not Lucius Malfoy__'__s son?_"

"_I know of Lucius Malfoy._" Maltandir's face darkened as he turned to a bewildered Arawen, "_I have been in the human world and he is a dark character. He is rumoured most strongly to have been a follower of the Dark Wizard mortals fear to name._"

"_Lord Voldemort?_" Arawen's face darkened,

"_The same. Nevertheless,_" Maltandir looked to the window, "_character is oft not passed on through descendants. And Draco maybe will benefit from the company of elves._"

Jaurion followed the other's gaze and looked out at the frosty white outside, "_Harivosl has covered this land early._" Harivosl was the deity of winter, "_This does not bode well._" The elves believed that the seasons cast a shadow of the coming year. An early spring was a promise of new things and perhaps a child, while an early winter was a bad omen of the future. Arawen too looked troubled. She'd seen frost on the statue of Meleniel.

* * *

Maltandir rode from Ariador the next morning and into the woodlands beyond. The houses around the castle were separated by many trees and only one or two were built on the ground. The rest were in the trees since elves preferred being above ground. The habitants of Valivial were mostly Wood Elves, due to the vast amount of woodland. Then, there were the River Elves who lived around the Isilluvar river. They lived mostly on boats or in small houses on stilts. The more magically powerful ones lived in magically protected houses beneath the water and there was even the end of a church spire sticking out from under the water.

Air Elves were rumoured to live above Valivial but none of them were confirmed. They lived in floating dwellings and rarely came down to earth. Or, if they did, no one noticed. Fire Elves lived alongside Mountain Elves and very little of them lived in Valivial, for there were very little mountains except on the borders. They lived mostly in Ithil'orad. Maltandir knew all this for he'd traveled across many lands and met with many of the different kinds of elves. He would meet some of them that day.

The Council of Nimohtar brought together the heads of the various Nimohtar orders together to discuss the states of their separate countries. Each country had a hidden meeting place known only to them. This time, the meeting was to be taken place in Alqualond, which was a day's ride from Ariador. Maltandir flew past tree after tree and only stopped to get a few hours sleep.

Within a few hours of the sun rising, he'd reached the place. A vast marble building concealed by tall ancient trees that others thought to be a ruin of a long dead past. Maltandir was not the only one that he reached the place. The Alqualond Nimohtar leader was there to greet him; a quarter-hobbit and unusually short River Elf known as Celemarin, the Silver Nymph. Alqualond was famous for the only all female Nimohtar order and they were known as Nymphs. They specialised in communication with water spirits and were a lonely, secluded kind.

Celemarin was wearing her usual floaty silver dress and white hood, her strange white hair braided and pushed out over her front like a milky rope. She spread out her arms wide and called in her sweet voice, "_In good time comes Valivial's Nimohtar! My brother, Maltandir!_" It was customary for fellow Nimohtar to call themselves brothers and sisters,

"_My heart sings to see you, Celemarin!_" They embraced and entered the main building, "_Has any of the others arrived?_"

"_Yes, our brother of Ithil'orad, Celedraug, has come._" Celedraug (or 'Silver Wolf') was the Head of the Ithil'orad Nimohtar, an order of widespread hunters that resided in the mountains. They, too, gave service to their country's army when needed, "_I regret to say that Lindaria cannot come._"

"_Why, what ails Calenedil now?_" Calenedil was reputedly a very sickly full-Drow. It had taken her some time to be accepted into the Council but she was very rarely there. She'd been jokingly and rather cruelly named 'the Green Priest' because of this. The Nimohtar of Lindaria did not give service to their kings and very little was known about what they actually did,

"_I don't know but she cannot move from her bed, poor thing. So, she has sent someone on her behalf._"

Celedraug, a wild, untidy looking elf with clothes made of a silver-white material that looked like horse skin, greeted Maltandir warmly with his booming voice. Once he'd managed to get out of his embrace, Maltandir saw what must be Calenedil's replacement. He wore the plain robe of a monk, only this image of modesty clashed spectacularly with his rich velvet cloak. The symbol of Lindaria (the horned fish leaping from the water) was set upon the clasp and the rope around his waist was decorated with shining silver tassels. All of his garments were jet black.

The replacement Nimohtar pushed back his hood a little and Maltandir saw that he had the exact skin tone of a half-Drow. His hair was dark and sleek, pulled back into a high, long ponytail and tied with an elaborate fastening. His eyes were pale and focused, his lips thin and sneering and his eyebrows curved and dark. Maltandir felt he did not like the look of this stranger. The half-Drow leered at him, as though he'd just been insulted, and narrowed his eyes,

"_Is there something about my appearance that displeases you, Maltandir?_"

The place became quiet. Celemarin and Celedraug looked round at him. Maltandir looked the half-Drow up and down. _He must have the gift of Rinatula,_

"_Perhaps you can give an account of yourself as Calenedil's temporary replacement?_"

"_If she has allowed me to come in her place,_" The half-Drow retorted, with the same condescending drawl, "_then perhaps that should suffice enough to allow your trust?_"

"_Come now, come now!_" Celemarin waved her hands as though to bat away the tense air that had settled when the half-Drow had spoken, "_It's not that we do not trust you, we just want to know a little about you and of your mistress's wishes!_"

The half-Drow glared at her for a moment and then, turned back to Maltandir, "_Perhaps, it is my heritage that makes you so wary? Indeed, you are right. I am a half-Drow. What of it? My 'mistress' is a full Drow._"

"_So she is, so she is!_" boomed Celedraug, joining Celemarin in her efforts to try and stop an argument, "_And we think none the less of her! Anyway, what may we call you, brother?_"

The half-Drow's face did not soften but he answered the question presented, "_You may call me Morendil._" Maltandir's unease increased. _The Black Priest. _He regretted dwelling over this for Morendil's lip curled and he drawled,"_Now, now, don't hold that against me, Maltandir. My colour does not reflect on my person._"

"_So it shouldn't._" boomed Celedraug, "_But, now, I hear our brother of Berathon approaching._"

The hall filled with the various leaders of the Nimohtar orders and Morendil did not include himself in the welcomes once. He gave greetings in his sneering drawl and said nothing unless spoken to. Everyone seemed very uncomfortable with him but he had much to say about Lindaria. In particular, about the underground happenings and foul deeds gone unnoticed. Maltandir felt that the Nimohtar on Lindaria must be involved in them or had very informative sources to know that much. The most disturbing piece of information was when Celedraug boomed,

"_So, what do you Nimohtar do about it? You cannot allow these underhanded deeds to continue!_"

"_Us?_" repeated Morendil, in his most condescending tone yet, "_Our island's laws are different to yours. The only thing we do is to prevent the serious trouble such as disturbance and chaos. We keep an eye on the black market, yes, but we do not prevent it. Oh no, my brothers and sisters. We simply watch, we do not act upon such trivial matters._"

When the meeting ended, everyone seemed rather glad to see the back of him and they took ill feeling of the state of Lindaria back to their lands with them.

* * *

A/N: A cookie for whoever can guess who Morendil is!


	4. Meeting at the Tombs

A/N: Oh, blimey. This story's getting more and more popular. It's really starting to overshadow Power of the Moon!

I've heard some guesses for Morendil's identity but I'm not giving it away now!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 4: Meeting at the Tombs**_

"...whenever you go anywhere with your master, you always walk behind them."

Draco was barely listening. He's spotted his Prince (as he liked to call him in his head) out of the window. His dark hair was glittering with tiny lights reflected from the sun again and he was wearing dark blue robes today. A warm feeling simmered happily within Draco as he watched the distant figure he adored sweep away and out of sight. He was left wishing he could have looked upon him for a bit longer,

"Draco! Are you listening?"

Arawen's voice broke rudely into his sweet thoughts of Him. Starting slightly, he turned back to her, "Sorry. I just saw something outside. Could you repeat that, please?"

Arawen positioned herself once more in the centre of the room, "I said, it is extremely rude to walk in front of your master unless given permission to. Your master always has to go first to show his authority over you. I daresay the Prince wouldn't be impressed if you broke the servant's code of conduct."

At the mention of his Prince, Draco sat up a little straighter. When he'd heard that his Prince had chosen to employ him as of the next week, words could not express how delighted he'd been. He would always be with his Prince and being his personal servant meant that there was plenty of chance to impress him. Wanting to really make a good impression, he'd asked Arawen for private lessons on how to be a good servant.

After two days, he'd been paying close attention to her, trying to remember everything she told him. Every single bit of this thoughts were upon his lessons, as if he needed to know it all for an important examination. He sincerely hoped that this effort would pay off. His Prince had barely said a word to him but that didn't matter. It was early days yet. He didn't know how hard he was working,

"Now," Arawen swept to the centre of the room, "do you remember the Servant's Pledge?"

"Yes!" Draco nodded. The Servant's Pledge was the vow between a servant and master that the servant will do everything their master would tell them. This was often done when the servant was first employed and, after that, when something important had to be done or the servant was trusted with a great secret. Arawen had told him that what had to be recited had to be memorised by heart. So, Draco had worked tirelessly ever since Arawen mentioned that taking a Servant's Pledge was a sign of great trust between master and servant,

"Very well, then. Imagine that I am the Prince." Though finding it very difficult to imagine someone as plain as Arawen to be the beautiful Prince, he obliged and nodded. She held out her hand and said, "Make the Servant's Pledge."

Draco knelt, as he'd been instructed, and took hold of her hand. He kept his lips only a fraction from her fingers; he would need to kiss them only when he was done. It was the speaking in Elvish part that came next and which was the hardest. He took a breath and uttered, "_I am your ever-devoted servant. I will follow you to the ends of the many worlds, never to falter or to betray. Your word is law. My will is yours. I will obey your every word, my master._" With that, he kissed her hand and rose.

Arawen smiled, "Well done, Draco! That was absolutely perfect! You must have been practicing a great deal." Her cheerful expression faltered a little, "Don't you not think that you work excessively?"

"Nothing is excessive," Draco felt he could trust her with his secret feelings, "when my Prince is concerned."

Arawen's eyebrows raised, "You like the Prince?"

"Yes." Draco nodded, gazing out of the window, "Don't ask me why but...well, I think I love him." He fancied that he caught a glimmer of triumph in Arawen's eye but, when he looked round, it was gone. She was looking at him with a surprised look on her face. Draco felt himself blush and wished he hadn't said it,

"Now, now," Arawen wagged a finger, "do not have shame for your feelings. It is not uncommon for Niennas to be of the same gender."

"Niennas?" Draco had never heard of the word,

"It means life partner. I know you humans generally do not look kindly upon homosexuality but, here in Valivial, it is not thought as unnatural." Draco's heart gave a small leap. There had been a small nagging voice in his head like his father's that told him that it was not right to love someone of the same gender. Strangely, before coming to Valivial, he'd hated the idea of two males loving one another but, now, all reasoning seemed to him as trivial as the amount of birds in the gardens. He was not what he would call ashamed but his previous ideals did tug at his thoughts from time to time, like a nagging conscience when he was stealing food. Somehow, his tender feelings for his Prince had stifled them.

Arawen's face suddenly darkened, "I would be careful around the Prince, though. He does not bear the name Calasier Avamela for nothing."

"Cala-what?"

"It means 'high one without love'." Arawen's eyes were suddenly shining, "His history carries many broken hearts and his parents lose hope that he will ever find a Nienna. He has no pleasure in seeking love."

Draco suddenly remembered the contemptuous look his Prince had given him and felt a small twinge of fear. _What if I tried to make an advance and he rejected me too? Would my Prince send me away if he didn't want anything to do with love?_ He resolved never to tell Him of his feelings. _I'll always be with him but I won't try to pursue love. We'll just be servant and master. Hopefully, if I work hard enough, he'll at least trust me more than others..._

* * *

With these thoughts, he continued to practice the skills needed for a servant and also, walking around the castle, trying to remember where everything was. After some exploring, he found that the palace was built between four sturdy and very tall trees, around which more rooms had been built so they were almost like towers. Each tree pointed in a different direction and each named after it. He could easily use a compass to find his way round them.

Rhunithil, 'East Moon', was where the royal family had their quarters and Draco would be staying in the servant's quarters with Arawen and the King's personal servant. Forelen, 'North Star', was the place where many balconies were situated since the palace was in the southern regions of Valivial and, looking to the North, one could see the vast expanse of Valivial and the distant mountains of Ithil'orad. It had been on the highest balcony that Draco had first caught sight of his Prince.

Harloomi, 'South Cloud', was a thin tree with silver bark. This was the tallest of all of them, probably the tallest in all Valivial, and only one elf had been to its very top, which was obscured from view by the ever-present clouds, which gave it its name. Numeranor, 'West Sun', was ironically elaborately and brightly painted in white and gold. Draco had visited this place only once and did not intend to go there again.

It had been the day before his employment to his Prince and he'd finally found the time to look around Numeranor. After ascending the staircases and rubbing his aching legs, he'd looked up to see a helmeted elf staring back at him. He'd jumped so badly that he nearly fell down the stairs. The elf had a brutal face with a spear pointed right at his heart. Any minute, the elf could plunge the jagged weapon into him. Gulping, Draco stuttered, "S-sorry! I-I didn't know…er…" But he didn't know what he wasn't supposed to know. The warrior made no move, just glared at him reproachfully, "I just-just…go, shall I?" Draco made a step backwards, hands shaking slightly.

It was then that he noticed the elf was not moving. He wasn't even blinking. Frowning slightly, Draco stared at him. There was no jab to make him hurry, the spear was just continually pointing at the same place. Bravely, he took a step forward. Nothing happening, Then another step. Then, another. Still, the guard did not move. Once he was close enough, Draco stood on tiptoe and waved a hand in front of his face. Still nothing. _That's odd._ Draco thought. He was sure that the guard would grab him and throw him back down the stairs now he was within arm's reach. Nervously, Draco touched the hand of the guard, sure now that it was going to respond. The hand was cold, too cold. It didn't feel like flesh; it was too hard. _Wait..._

Draco could have kicked himself. The guard that he'd been so scared of was nothing more than a stone statue. Yet, he could be excused for thinking it was real due to the fact that it was painted in such a lifelike way. The guard was standing on a small plinth with elvish runes written at the bottom which Draco could not understand.

Looking around, he saw that the room was full of statues, all intricately painted just like the guard and were actually wearing real clothes. Each were standing or sitting on a plinth that was carved with the same runes and also the symbol of a black owl. They were so well-painted that he thought the person who came around a solemn looking veiled elf was one of them coming to life. An elf with flaming red hair and bright yellow clothes spotted him,

"Ah, you are Draco, are you not?" He smiled, kindly, "Everyone at Ariador knows about the Prince's human servant. Have you started work yet?"

"No." Draco shook his head, "Who are you?"

"I'm Leonas, personal servant of King Jaurion. So, one could say that I am your senior officer, if you forgive the military term. Now, " He sat at the feet of the veiled elf, "what brings you to the Tombs?"

"The Tombs?" Draco raised his eyebrows. He thought the place was far too bright and elaborate for that,

"Yes! The Tombs of the many Kings and Queens of the past. I see the Guard of the Gate frightened you on your way in."

"Was he a King too?"

"No, no, no!" Leonas laughed, "He's their guard. He serves to protect them from people who would deface the Dead."

"I thought he was real." Draco said, stupidly,

"I know. That is the general idea. They're put at every entrance to frighten grave robbers."

"So," Draco glanced around at the kingly figures around him, "these are graves?"

"Yes, indeed. You _are_ clever." He had the feeling that Leonas was mocking him, "Their bodies are laid beneath their statues so that their souls may look upon their images one last time before being reborn. They are buried vertically, I believe, and face up."

This new culture and religion of the elves never ceased to bewilder Draco. Then, a smirk found its way onto his face, "What happens if the souls don't like the statues?"

"Well, the maker of Gadweal the Second's statue was most blighted with fever and, lo and behold, he returned to find that the statue's nose was off-centre." He laughed, "So, do mortals do the same?"

"No." Draco shook his head, wanting to get off the topic of death as soon as possible, "We just bury them with headstones. Horizontally." Leonas looked astonished,

"Really?" Leonas seemed unperturbed by talking about such a morbid topic and went on, "Just a headstone? On the grave?"

"No." _He's a strange one._ He thought, _to talk about death in such a casual manner, _"Just...next to it."

"What do mortals put on them? We just carve their names and a famous quote from them."

"Well..." Draco, though ruffled by the continuing theme of death in the conversation, "...we do put the name and the dates they were born and when they died...Anyway," He added, seeing that Leonas showed signs of wanting to continue, "you said that you were the King's servant?"

"Yes, I am." Leonas looked a little disappointed at the change of subject but, thankfully, did not continue it, "I have been of service to the King ever since Prince Hari was in his early hundreds. The grandfather of the Prince is here." He resumed his strange liking to death and pointed to an image of a red-haired elf, carrying what looked like the severed head of one of the ape-creatures that had captured Draco. The sight couldn't help but make him wince at the staring eyes and white blood that stained the head, "He's holding the head of a Drow-drone because he was famous for winning one of the greatest battles of this age, when our forces were outnumbered twenty to one. I was there myself. The King fought like one possessed..."

"You were there?"

"Yes. I am around the same age as the King. Personal servants are normally the same sort of age as their masters. In human time, I would say the Prince would be your age."

"My age?" Draco frowned, confused,

"Did none inform you? Human time and Elf time are very seperate. A year in the human world is approximately a hundred here. So, you need not worry about your family missing you!"

This joking comment brought Draco's thoughts crashing back to his home and his parents. _How could I have just forgotten about them? Does this mean...they probably wouldn't have even noticed by now?_ Leonas became serious all of a sudden,

"Do you miss your family?"

"I-I haven't noticed." Draco answered, truthfully, "I was...thinking about other things..." He felt his face burning red again. Leonas nodded sympathetically,

"Ariador does that to those who are not accustomed to her. I did forget about my family when I first came. Now," He leaned forward, "I hear from Arawen that you nurse tender feelings for the Prince."

Draco started but realised what he might be about to do, "Don't try to stop me, Leonas."

"I know you cannot stop Meleniel if she has chosen her course." Draco knew who Meleniel was, having prayed to her a few times, "But, I must warn you that a relationship with the Prince will end swiftly and brutally. The most a suitor has lasted was two months then the Prince broke her heart." Draco felt a small unbidden pang of sympathy in his heart,

"I myself have a male Nienna." His eyes shot to the redhead, "There is no shame in it."

"It's not that I'm ashamed." Draco shook his head, "It's just...strange. I never thought I'd like...other males..."

The door suddenly swung open, making the two of them jump and look round. The air seemed to drain from the room. His hair glittering and his royal robes sweeping, He entered. Draco seemed rooted to the spot. A part of him was begging to let his Prince see him and to let those stunning bright green eyes be visible. That was the best part of him; his eyes. Those shining powerful eyes that made Draco feel naked and undefended.

Leonas too was motionless. After a moment, He moved through the statues and caught sight of the two. Leonas bowed and Draco hastened to do the same, "And, what may you be doing in such cold company, Draco?"

"I...er..." Draco felt his face grow hot and he couldn't answer,

"I took him up here, Your Majesty." Leonas said, suddenly. Draco felt a rush of gratitude towards him, "Never has he been to this place."

His Prince scoffed, "What would he want with the Dead? Your interest in the departed do not extend to others, Leonas. Do not bring strangers to such a displeasing place."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Leonas bowed again. After a long cold glare at the redhead, He turned to the other,

"I do not wish you to return to Numeranor, Draco. The bones of my fathers are best left."

"I won't, Sire, I most certainly won't!" Draco bowed lower than Leonas so he nearly lost his balance, making a note never to come here again. His Prince approached him; this simple action making his heart bash against his chest, so hard did it beat,

"I have searched for you. You are to be in my service tomorrow." Draco's excitement bubbled up inside him again at the mention of it and even more so when he extended a ringed hand, "Make the Servant's Pledge. Or do you not know of it?" He added, with a contemptuous glance,

"Oh, I do, Sire." With that, he got down on one knee and put his mouth close to the offered hand, "_I am your ever-devoted servant. I will follow you to the ends of the many worlds, never to falter or to betray. Your word is law. My will is yours. I will obey your every word, my master._" He kissed the ring, as was recommended, and rose to his feet.

His Prince was silent, glaring at him. Draco took the silence as an indication that he'd done nothing wrong and he couldn't help but feel relieved. _At least I haven't made any mistakes so far. _With his hair sweeping and sparkling, He turned to leave, "Very well. I will see you tomorrow morning." With that, he left the tomb.

Leonas looked very impressed, "Goodness me, Draco. I did not have the knowledge of it when I began! Where did you learn the Servant's Pledge?"

"Arawen taught me." Draco felt a warm pride rise within him. He hadn't made a fool of himself; he'd done something right in front of his Prince and he'd keep doing it right now that he knew how. For the first time since he came to Valivial, he did not feel foolish or ignorant and this was a very good feeling for him.

* * *

Outside the tomb, Hari sighed and ran a hand through his hair. _It has begun but will it run smooth? _He remembered a quote from a Muggle author that the Queen had told him that contradicted his hopes but he pushed it to the back of his mind. _I will continue to have Draco under my wing and maybe all will be well. He will perchance not be heartbroken if I do not spurn him so brutally as the others._ Noalith's words came into his head, '_Neglect will carve scars deeper than any._'

_It is all for Draco_, he told himself sternly, _I do this to hasten his true love of me and not this liquid imitation._ Telling himself that again and again, he retreated to his quarters.

* * *

The waves were calm that night. Away from Valivial and many leagues from Lindaria or the Tume Isles, a ship lay anchored in a rocky stretch of sea, hidden by the largest one known as the Gadweal Rock, after the King who'd slain a brutal Drow leader known as Rath. The Gadweal Rock was really a small, uninhabited island. There was attempts to make settlements there but all came to slaughter.

There were rumours that it was haunted by Rath's soul who could not be reborn due to the fact that no funeral rights had been performed for him. His body was never found. However, it was not a ghost that murdered everyone who came upon the island. The ship that lay at anchor in the hidden bay was full of Drow-drones and the true Drows commanded them.

In a windowed cabin of the ship, two of the most unlikely creatures resided. A Wood elf and a halfling. The Wood elf was female and admiring herself in her splendid red dress in the mirror. She was wearing it as a trial to see whether it was suitable for the plan and was attaching a rope of rare blood-pearls around her neck. The halfling was dressed in the rough clothes of his kind but there was none of their warmth in his face,

"_The Prince would never know we were his enemies by looking upon us._" She giggled, "_He does not have Rinatula so there is no way of him ever knowing._"

"_It is very good, madam._" The Drow-drone nodded, "_You look absolutely divine as ever._"

"_Of course,_" She added, "_we would have to change our names. I shall be Nardiel and you shall be Andrond. Drow names would look far too suspicious. We have no problems with our appearance but Valivial elves are very suspicious._"

"_But, where to meet him, madam?_" Andrond asked, putting his head to one side,

"_There is a celebration soon. A festivial for one of their silly little deities, I believe. I will meet with him then and win his heart._"

"_They say,_" Andrond pointed out, "_that the Prince has no love in his heart._"

"_Really?_" Nardiel turned back to the mirror and used her finger to apply blood-red colour to lips, "_Neither do I._"

* * *

A/N: Another twist! Plz review.


	5. Meleniel's Message

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! I know this is late but I got writer's block and I'm trying to cut down on the time I'm taking on the laptop or on any electrical device. I'm trying to have one hour per two hours of electricity. I'm breaking that a bit to get this done. To be honest, this is a bit slap-dash. I was trying to finish this quickly to clear my conscience so sorry if it isn't as good.

**DeathEaters: **Thank you very much. I'm glad you think my writing style's good. I've signed up for the Dark Mark now thanks to your recommendation.

**EngelCre: **I'm grateful for any review from you! Keep reading, it'll get better!

**RRW: **Oh, thank you very much!

**MoonlightPrincess: **Well, you'll just have to wait and see! (winks)

**evildictionaryninja: **Ah, all will be revealed in good time.

Good reviews this time around! Remember to check out my other fics too. They need some love!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 5: Meleniel's Message**_

Ever since he'd been in the service of Prince Hari, a great change had come over Draco. Anyone who had known him in England would have said so if they'd met him at that point. He was quieter and more polite to people he met. He'd almost forgotten his ideals of pureblood supremacy. He'd only truely got rid of them when he and his Prince had stopped a coach being raided by orcs.

It had happened in the second week of Draco's employment. They had been in the royal stagecoach together on the way back from a journey to one of the Lords and Draco had just made a fresh attempt at starting a conversation with Him when a terrible scream rent the air. Both of them looked up, startled at the noise. His Prince had turned to Draco and commanded, "Stay here. I will go and see what is happening."

Draco had remained there for a while. But curiousity got the better of him. He threw open the door and leapt down. About a hundred metres away, there was a great commotion. Draco saw short, nasty-looking little creatures in dark armour scurrying all over the place. After running a little closer, he picked out Him among the fighting elves. A coach stood forgotten and the horses were rearing and neighing with fright.

A young-looking elf and what looked like her brother were hiding in a thicket, staring at the battle going on. Draco could tell even from a distance that there were too many of the creatures. In a desperate, reckless move, he grabbed a thick branch and brought it down as hard as he could on the nearest creature's head. He was sure that it would topple unconscious onto the ground but he soon realised that orcs were stronger than that.

After a few moments' silence, it turned its ugly, leering head and scowled, its glinting dark eyes glaring at him. It said something in a strange, harsh-sounding tongue and then, turned its dark, jagged blade on him. With strength that Draco would have never guessed it had, the thing threw him to the ground and stood over him, the blade ready. Draco wished he had a sword; he could see a perfect place to stab between the armour plates.

Just as the blade was to come down, the creature gave a gasp of pain and surprise and went crumpling to the floor. His Prince stood over the body, his sword covered in dark blood. Upon seeing His angry face, Draco wished he'd stayed in the coach. He ran quickly away back to the coach but the damage was done. An awful feeling of dread began to grow like mould in his gut. He'd displeased his Prince and he'd have to face the consequences. The dirty look alone was enough of a punishment but he knew worse was to come.

After a while, the noise died down and there was some talk in the distance. Draco wondered if the family was asking about him and what He was saying back. Would He say that Draco was only a stupid human? Or perhaps He'd call him a disobedient servant. The guilt and dread felt worse and worse with every second. He felt as though he was about to be led to the gallows. The possibilty of running away flitted in and out of Draco's mind but he knew he'd be in even worse trouble if he did so he stayed put.

Then, he heard His footsteps coming closer. They were marching. Draco dreaded the rage that would come. The door was flung open and His Prince stepped inside. His robes were slightly stained with the same dark blood. He did not even look at the boy. Instead, he set about wiping his sword clean. Seeing his silence as an opportunity to get an apology through first, Draco swallowed and spoke, "I'm sorry, My Prince. I acted without thinking. It won't happen again."

The green eyes flicked up to him and Draco wished he hadn't spoken. A scornful look came over His face "Servants stay where they are until they are wanted. Perhaps you do not know what the Servant's Pledge meant? You learned the words and not the meaning. Perhaps I should tell you." Draco's cheeks burned with shame,

"I do know, Sire."

An eyebrow raised, "Come then! Give it to me in your tongue."

Not looking once at his Prince, Draco recited the Servant's Pledge in English, his voice becoming quieter with every sentence. He had not done what the Pledge had said and having to recite it only made it worse. When he'd finished and Draco dared a look up, He returned to polishing his sword, "If you knew it, why did you break your word?"

"I..." Draco felt stupid. How could he have made such a foolish decision as to go out unarmed against unknown foes? "...I wanted to help, Sire..."

"And yet," His Prince cast a fleeting look at him, "you should know that a mere human cannot possibly defeat veteran orcs? Or, are you so foolish that you do not even know your own place?"

Draco said nothing. He stared hard at his knees, fighting back the tears of shame that had begun to prick his eyes. It was a while before He spoke again, "Those orcs predate on part-elves the most. I know of your kind, Draco, and their tendency to dislike all those who are not of the 'pureblood', as you call it." Another stab of guilt and dread went through him. If his Prince knew that he was one of them..., "Do you hold those views?"

"No, Sire." Draco lied, making a note never to say the word 'Mudblood' again, "I'd never do such a thing."

"Well, at least employing you was not a completely foolhardy decision." This statement made Draco's face grow even hotter, "If you had, I would have dismissed you there and then." Draco had to fight back a sigh of relief.

* * *

Hari did not know why acting cold and scornful towards Draco felt so good. He had panicked when he'd seen Draco attempt to fight the orcs. He knew his intentions were good but Draco's disobedience stained them. The family he had saved (Draco had done nothing but get himself into trouble) had been very kind about Draco's efforts and had actually given Hari a purse of gold to give to the boy as thanks. That purse was hidden in an inside pocket and the Prince had no intention of giving it to Draco. Not after making him worry.

* * *

After that mistake, he thought only of impressing his Prince and no amount of indifference from his master could sway his determination to make up for his obedience. The times he liked best were when Draco rode in his Prince's royal stagecoach opposite Him. The scenery outside would be more beautiful and green than any seen in the human world but the most beautiful sight, of course, was his Prince. At those moments, the both of them were alone together and, even though their eyes never met, he fancied that, every now and again, He would glance at Draco and then back out of the window.

After the incident with the Orcs, Draco was always commanded to stay in the coach and was never allowed into the houses of the people he visited. He would stay in the carriage and sometimes, with the same reckless urge that made him stray into the fight with the orcs, he would sneak out and try to catch a glimpse of Him over a wall or through a window. He'd made sure to keep the coach in sight so he could get back to it quickly. The people He talked with were what looked like lords and ladies. He'd tried asking who they were (to try and start a conversation with Him, more than anything) but his Prince always said coldly, "That is for a Prince to know and for a servant to be ignorant." Draco was not foolish enough to pursue the topic.

To his great delight, Draco found that English seemed to be a commonly spoken language in Valivial. He met servants of the lords and ladies, all were very friendly to him, "Everyone knows about the Prince's human servant in Valivial, young sir." a plump maid told him when they visited the Lady Panithiel. Draco wondered if there was a network of servants since, once he'd mentioned that he wished he knew more about the Elven lands to one of them (he wanted his Prince to think he wasn't a stupid little mortal after all), they all rose to the challenge.

With every visit, a servant would come out and give him a small trinket from other parts of the country or the lands beyond. A stable boy of the Lord Bandorian even gave him a map of Valivial and the surrounding lands and islands. When his Prince was away in another land (and would not take Draco), he'd peruse these gifts in his room. The best present of all was a small white statue of Meleniel, whom Draco liked to pray to whenever he had a chance. Not to request his Prince's love (he knew that was too much to ask) but to request that He never loved another and that no one would ever catch Draco's eye.

He'd learned to hide the things he was given since his Prince seemed to dislike any inquiry about the Elven world. He always ignored all inquiries and told him that it wasn't his business. Still, Draco enjoyed this secret collection of treasures and they kept him from misery when his Prince was away. For he did feel miserable when his Prince wasn't with him. Draco supposed that these trinkets were reminders of the world in which He lived. It was not the world of the Elves. It was his Prince's world and all he wanted was to keep them to look at when his Prince was away.

The room itself was in Rhunithil and in the servants' quarters a floor below the royal family's rooms. His room was bare, small and very plain. The bedstead was wooden, the sheets were plain and the window was small. It was more like a room in a poor cottage than any other in the palace. Arawen and Leonas had separate rooms but their rooms were nothing like his. They were lavish, much bigger and beautiful, looking like they belonged in Ariador. Seeing them made Draco's heart sink. _What if my Prince demanded it to be this way because he doesn't like me?_ Even though Draco was used to luxury and comfort, he took the room without complaint. After all, he wanted to be as close to his Prince as possible and felt that he'd even take a cupboard if his Prince required it.

It was very rarely when Draco wondered why he felt this way about Him. He'd liked Pansy before he came to Valivial. Maybe it was the air of the place that made him change. Still, it was not an unwelcome change. Draco had never felt better when he thought of someone than when he thought of his Prince. Until he came to Valivial, he'd seen people as just people and no one was really remarkable. But, his Prince was special. Draco had never felt like this about anyone before.

Leonas and Arawen were Draco's main sources of information about the culture of Elves. Though Leonas' fascination with death was a little off-putting, Draco soon got used to it and found him a mine of historical information. When he heard about the Festival of Harivosl, he was extremely disappointed when he found that he couldn't attend because he was a servant, "But, then," he pointed out to Arawen, who told him why, "everyone's a servant to someone here, haven't they?"

"That is exactly the point." Arawen nodded, "You can never have a festival without someone who serves another present. That is why winter is so cold; Harivosl wreaks his wrath upon the world with frost and ice but we can lessen it by preventing some servants from worshipping him. He is a cruel and angry deity but his anger comes but once a year. So, we endure it and celebrate him to placate him a little."

It took Draco a moment to take this in. The Elves' logic was baffling and their religion even more so. _Why celebrate at all if this god's anger's inevitable? How can they bow to someone that cruel?_ He didn't ask this out loud, though. Arawen went on, "Many say that the Prince is Harivosl's incarnation. Since he is so cold, hard-willed and heartless." Again, her eyes filled with tears, as they always did whenever his Prince was mentioned. Draco had no idea why and had not asked. He felt it was too insensitive.

* * *

The long barge was prepared at last. The indigo sails were perfumed, silver glinted in the lines and a figurehead of a beautiful winged human graced the bow. _An angel, I believe they call it._ Nardiel thought, as she boarded the beautiful vessel. _Messengers from the Gods to guide the mortals, _"Tch!" She scoffed, quietly, _No such thing. _Andrond came aboard next. He would be strictly forbidden from the festivities, being the image of a servant. Harivosl, the deity being worshipped, did not like people who bowed to others and not him. Misfortune befell the population if a servant ever took part in his festival, like blizzards and illness.

Nardiel felt like scoffing again. _What silly little beliefs these elves hold! If Harivosl does exist, then he is a vain fool, not a deity to be so incensed by such trivial nonsense._ _He does not deserve my worship._ Smoothing a crease in her traveling dress, she settled in her silver gilded chair with a midnight blue canopy. She had been over the customs of the festival many times in her head.

At first, they were to wear the colours of the autumn deity, Yavhwen, in order to properly say farewell to her and give their last respects. _Really, do they believe that she is listening? She will come again the next year; why must they say farewell to her in such a way?_ Then, at midnight, they would change into Harivosl's colours to welcome him, _How can they expect him to care?_

"_Is everything ready?_" She asked Andrond. imperiously,

"_Everything, madam._" He nodded, "_You look absolutely divine. The Prince will not be able be resist your charms._"

_So insincere._ She ignored him and looked ahead at the calm sea before her. The new morning sun shone above them and she was rather grateful of the canopy above her to shield her easily burned skin, "_When shall we reach Valivial?_"

"_In two days, madam. We will reach the Alqualond port at nightfall and it will take another day's travel to reach the borders or Valivial._"

"_And, to reach the festival place?_"

"_Another three days, madam. Of course,_" He added, seeing her face, "_you shall not be traveling on foot yourself. The barge shall sail up the river and, with fortune, good wind and little ice, we shall arrive in time for the festivities. Shall you remain here, madam?_"

"_Yes, I shall. It would do well to be seen in the public eye so all will admire me._"

Andrond nodded, bowed and went below deck. The crew were coming aboard now. They were all elves that were on the side of the Drows or else they were part Drow. Nardiel despised half-breeds. They were tainted with ugly Drow blood in their veins and thus they were only second-rate compared to pure elves. Despite being on their side, Nardiel did not like Drows. Their black skin was unsightly and their attitude was even worse. She was not bloodthirsty nor did she participate in battles. She'd never held a sword or bow in her life, preferring to use seduction and charm to get her own way.

This was very unusual for an elf her age. She knew in Valivial that both genders of elves trained to fight. _How very belligerent. No wonder they have so many wars. _She knew the Prince was the head of the Akhohr. _I wonder if he expects me to be a master in combat too. Well, it matters not whether I am or not. He is powerless to my charms._

Beneath her, the boat began to move. The crew were hard at work below and Nardiel sat lazily in her throne-like chair, watching them all. She could sit still for days on end and give away no emotion. It was a skill she did not remember receiving but she was not ungrateful for it. The clear, uneventful sea passed her by without her once looking up. She kept her eyes on the North-West, where they were headed. To others, she was like a statue, sitting proud upon her throne and glaring unblinkingly down at them all.

The journey passed without much event. She remained in the throne-like chair except at night when she went into her cabin to get some sleep. People in the Alqualond port pointed and stared at her. She paid them no heed. This was all part of the plan. The public would see her and admire her. She needed to be widely know in order to be highly recommended. If the Prince cared nothing for love, then he would surely marry for publicity and money, which she would have plenty of. if all else failed, he would marry her just to stop the line of suitors. _And, who wouldn't want that?_

* * *

During the festival of Harivosl, Draco remained in his room. He set his statue of Meleniel upon the floor and knelt beside it. As he'd been shown by Leonas, he placed his left hand upon his heart, _Oh, Meleniel, deity of love. I pray to you as your devoted follower. I love my Prince so yet I know I cannot have him. Will it please you to allow him to never love another? I know it seems selfish but I wish to be his friend forever. A friend, at least. May my love be everlasting and may I never love another. _Draco made the same prayer to her every time.

He could distantly hear the celebrations but he did not wish to be there. He knew he'd meet only punishment there but he wished that he could at least see his Prince. _I wonder if he's enjoying himself. _It was late and seeing the darkness, he lay in his bed and closed his eyes.

He had a strange dream. _He was floating down from the sky with a woman with long hair. A white dove was circling around them. The woman said nothing but landed them in a road. They strode down it without speaking. Draco wondered where they were going. There was bluish white light ahead and the sounds of singing. Draco could not discern what they were singing._

_The woman did not seem to be an elf but Draco had the feeling he'd seen her before. He couldn't think where though. The trees as they drew closer seemed to be encased in ice that glittered like diamond sculptures. Now, they were closer to the lights and Draco saw what looked like a street parade. Blue and silver decorations hung between houses and snow was lightly falling. There were few people but all were elves._

_They strode through the streets. No one paid any attention to them. They seemed invisible. Draco felt like asking where they were but the dove flew ahead and, when they'd caught up with it, it was settling upon a statue of a great female elf with a cloak spread wide. After looking around for a while. Draco saw something to make his heart stop still._

_For He was there. His Prince was dancing in the square and he was wearing the blue and silver that was everywhere. But he wasn't alone. The sight made Draco's heart freeze like the ground beneath them. An elf was dancing with him. She was very beautiful with long dark hair and eyes. There was a seductive allure about her and her voice was drawling. There was no kindness or human compassion in her face. There was an unexplainable cruelty about it that made a dislike sprout in his mind. They seemed to be talking but their words were lost in the singing and reveling. By the look on their faces, they were enjoying each other's company._

_Draco attempted to run to him but the woman held him back. Looking up, he saw her face. She was angry; her face was twisted in rage as she glared at his Prince. The dove perched itself on Draco's shoulder and it too glared at the couple with something like dislike. Then, the women lowered herself and whispered something in his ear._

When Draco awoke next morning, he remembered every detail of the dream. His Prince had been dancing with a female elf. But it was just a dream, surely. He sat up and nearly knocked over the statue of Meleniel. He bent down and made to put it under his bed. Then, he stared at it. She was identical to the woman in the dream. No, so was the dove and the dove was Meleniel's signature symbol.

The woman was Meleniel. One thought came into his head, _Find Arawen. She'll know._ Without bothering to change into new clothes (he'd slept in the clothes he'd worn the previous day), he hurried into the corridor and promptly bumped into Leonas, "Whoa!" He only just managed to catch the little statue before it hit the floor, "Steady there, Draco. The Prince does not expect you to come for a few hours."

_Leonas! I'll ask him! He knows about spirits, _"Leonas, tell me something!" He held out the precious figure, "Do the deities come to people in dreams?"

"Well, yes." Leonas nodded, gazing at Draco searchingly, "Why?" Then, he grew excited, "Have you had a vision?"

Quickly, Draco described his dream to Leonas, who grew more and more disconcerted, "...But, is it real? What the deities show?" The more he thought about it, the more panic-stricken he became. If it was true, it would mean his prayers were in vain. If his Prince loved another...

Leonas' face became sympathetic, "The deities can show people visions and they are always true." Draco's insides seemed to vanish. The statue slipped in his fingers, "But they always show visions for a reason. Did you say Meleniel was angry?"

After a nod from Draco, he gave a kind smile, "That means she dislikes the relationship. She does not want them to be together. So, they must either cease the relationship or misfortune will befall them." With that, he stretched, "So, I think you have nothing to worry about." As he left for the staircase, Draco hurried back into his room. He had not told Leonas what Meleniel had told him.

* * *

A/N: Oh, Hari's getting worse! What d'you think Meleniel said to him? A cookie for anyone who can guess! In fact, a cookie for anyone who can guess anything that's coming correctly!


	6. The Traitors

A/N: hurries in, tripping over herself Sorry! Sorry! I know it's really late but my internet connection's not been behaving itself lately and the summer holidays are coming up so, hopefully, they'll speed up.

**Potterdownthestreet:** Short and sweet review! Thank you very much!

**TheGodMachine: **Ah, maybe she did, maybe she didn't! You'll have to wait and see.

**Twinblade Alchemist: **That's a rather precise request which prompts me to ask...why a pillar of salt?

**Crystal Malfoy: **Yeah, it was really low of him! When I said in Chapter 2 that he didn't mind taking an underhand method, I meant it!

**MoonlightPrincess: **Sorry, this isn't exactly what you call soon but it's an update!

**sweety-pie2712: **I'm just thinking about that whether I want to extend this story that far.

**evildictionaryninja: **Seems like he won't.

A good haul of reviews this time around! Thank you all my patient reviewers and the ones who favourited, story-alerted and author-alerted this story.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 6: The Traitors**_

For Draco, the next month was one of the worst he spent in Valivial. Not only had the vision proved to be correct but the female elf, now known to be called Nardiel, started to be invited to the palace. Draco was no longer required to remain with his Prince all the time and, when he was summoned, he was only made to get drinks and serve food. This made him feel strangely shunted aside, as though his Prince had chosen Nardiel over him. The vision Meleniel had shown him and her message still haunted him when he prayed to her. These prayers became less frequent since Draco had lost faith in her somewhat.

Nardiel had a servant too. At first, Draco thought he was a child for he was only about three or four foot high. Then, Leonas told him that he was a halfling, a human-like creature that only grew to such a height, "But there are not many of them. They are a secretive race like the dwarves. They prefer us to leave them alone and they extend us the same treatment."

"But, what's one of them doing with the Lady Nardiel?" Draco wondered aloud,

"Who knows?" Leonas shrugged, "I do not even know where the Lady Nardiel comes from. From her accent, she seems to be from on of the Tune Isles but I swear that no dark-haired elves live there. Those isles are known to inhabit fair-headed elves."

"But, I suppose there's always one, isn't there?" Draco reasoned,

"Yes. I suppose." Leonas fell silent as Prince Hari and Nardiel entered the room below. They could not see the two above who lurked in the upper galleries. Draco's eyes almost unconsciously turned to his Prince. His insides seemed to writhe uncomfortably at the sight of Him with Nardiel. She was beautiful, there was no denying it. However, she was a snide, sneering elf. He remembered too well how she'd sneered at him and called him a 'stupid mortal' when she'd first laid eyes upon him.

To Draco, she was cruel and heartless. He did not want her to marry his Prince. She was not like the kind Queen Lindilwen, whom he'd come to greatly respect, and he could not see her as a good queen. Nor as a good _Nienna_ for his Prince. At times, he thought this but, at others, when he was alone, he yearned the company of his Prince alone. He ached for his Prince more than ever. He didn't know whether he disapproved of Nardiel or whether he was jealous of her. Whenever the subject rose, he felt so conflicted and confused. He felt the same as they walked through the room without even a glance up at the galleries. His stomach twisted as it always did when he saw them together and it refused to budge even when they were gone.

This must have shown in his face since Leonas asked, "Is anything amiss, Draco?"

"No," Draco shook his head, trying to put on a passive face. Then, seeing that no one was within earshot of them, he added, more quietly, "I just...don't really like her, that's all. She laughed at me when I first met her.

"Yes." Leonas nodded, "She is not well liked among the servants here. The only servant she is civil to is her own, that Andrond. And I would not trust him if he saved my own life from Drows."

Draco looked down and saw the halfling there. He was strolling at his leisure through the hall. Leonas scowled, "His folk are civil enough to us but some of them are untrustworthy. Most of them live in holes and they are a poor race. Some of them steal from elves and rob coaches. There are those who would even strike deals with orcs and Drows to support themselves."

"You don't think-?"

But Leonas shushed him quickly, for Andrond had glanced up and saw them looking at him. His piggy little eyes lingered on Draco longest before he turned away and strode from the room. Once he was gone, Leonas shook his head, "Too long has he watched you, Draco. Too long has he followed your steps."

"He's watching me?"

"Yes. I have seen him following you. Be careful of him, Draco. Such an interest in you cannot produce anything good."

* * *

Now that Draco knew about it, he indeed began to notice Andrond keeping an eye on him when he was alone. He didn't like it one bit. The things Leonas told him kept popping into his head whenever he appeared. _What if he's in league with those Drows that captured me? What if they're planning to kidnap me again?_ He felt vulnerable; he thought that he must be the only person in the castle who didn't know how to wield a sword. He didn't dare ask his Prince either whether he could take lessons.

His Prince often went on trips with Nardiel and Draco was left behind. To avoid Andrond's stares, he shut himself in his room with no company except sad thoughts. When he was in such moods, he would lie on his bed for hours on end in an unhappy lethargy. He would wonder whether there was any point in him getting out of bed anymore if his Prince didn't need him.

In those moments of melancholy, his mind was sometimes return to the worst thoughts he had. That perhaps, if Nardiel commanded it, He would send Draco away back to the human world and he would never see him again. In those moments, Draco would sometimes dissolve into tears. He wanted to stay with His Prince and couldn't bare the thought of him going back to the human world, for which he only had dull and worthless memories.

* * *

The Queen was most surprised when her son brought a Wood Elf back from the Festival of Harivosl and even more surprised when he began courting her. She was so convinced that he would woo Draco. All the signs had been good by her reckoning but she then realised that she hadn't been keeping a close eye on Hari ever since Draco was taken into his employment. She wondered whether they had a relationship without her knowledge and it had ended like all the others. She was beginning to worry.

Nardiel, she found, was an elf most unsuitable to be the Prince's _Nienna. _She was cold and snide to all she met. Of course, she acted politely to the King and Queen but she'd seen her attitude to others and heard complaints from Leonas and Arawen. _She cannot be Queen._ She concluded. Jaurion agreed with her as they discussed the matter on the seventeenth balcony of Forelen, "_She will not have my blessing. I shall give it to Draco if I give it to anyone._"

"_Where is Draco?_" Lindilwen wondered, "_I have seen very little of him. He does not go with the Prince as often as he did last month._"

"_No, he does not._" Jaurion shook his head, "_Hari does not seem to request his presence now he has Nardiel._"

"_I should very much like to see him. If Arawen speaks true and he does love Hari then he have as little pleasure with the presence of Nardiel as we do._"

The King crossed to the edge and looked out upon the white landscape. Shivering slightly, he drew his warm cloak more tightly around him, "_Harivosl has unleashed more of his power. It is very cold._"

"_It does not bode well._" The Queen too drew her cloak more tightly around her, "_Something has happened to anger him._"

Neither of them spoke but both were thinking of the same thing. They both thought that they knew exactly what brought on this cold winter. Only one new thing had happened since the Festival of Harivosl. To ease the ill feeling between them, the Queen turned, "_I shall go to Draco._" With that, she departed the balcony and strode down the steps. Two levels down from her was a junction of bridges between the trees that connected the four towers of Ariador. That would be the quickest way to Rhunithil.

_I do wish Hari has not given Nardiel his leave to come to Rhunithil. That tower is restricted to everyone but the royal family and those they have permitted to enter. To allow her there would never do._ Lindilwen wondered whether she disliked Nardiel or just disapproved of her. The elf seemed to give off an aura of distrust which all but her son seemed to feel.

Thankfully, she did not run into Nardiel or Hari on her way to find Draco. Finding him was easier than first suspected. He was in his room and, upon a little magic on the door, she could see what he was doing. He was lying on his bed with a dejected sort of air around him. A white statue lay on his bedside table. What struck her was the room itself.

_How on earth could Hari allow such a plain room? Draco is a Prince's servant, he ought to be given better than that! _Ending the spell, she knocked on the door. There was some movement from within and the door opened. The boy gave a very visible jump and hastened to bow, "Your Highness!"

"May I come in, Draco?" She asked, politely,

"Of course, Your Highness." He stood aside to let her into the small room. To Lindilwen, it looked like a bedroom in a cottage but without the quaint charm. It appeared more bare and plain than it had been from the door. _If my son ever loved Draco, why did he give him such a room? _This was not what she planned at all. She could not understand why her son had shown such attentiveness to Draco before and now had seemingly abandoned him.

Thinking that Draco may have some answers, the Queen sat down on Draco's bed and patted the space next to her. Warily, Draco sat down on that spot and turned to her. He didn't look as though he'd been crying but that same dejected aura was still there in his face. Lindilwen cleared her throat, "Draco, do you like my son, the Prince?"

It took Draco a while to answer. He chewed his lip, glanced towards the door and clasped his hands before he said, "He is not a cruel master, Your Highness."

"Yes." This wasn't what she was asking for and she saw that it would take a bit more persuasion to receive any details, "He is not a cruel-hearted elf. Draco, how does he treat you? Would you say he is stern with you?"

An even longer pause preceded this question. Lindilwen kept her eyes on his face. She did not have the gift of Rinatula but she could nearly always tell if someone was lying to her. After another glance at the door, Draco answered, "A little, Your Highness." There was no lie in his face but she could see that he was still hiding something,

"Draco, I am in a position of authority over Prince Hari." The Queen told him, choosing her words carefully, "If you think he treats you unfairly, I will be the one to stop him."

"He is not unfair to me, Your Highness..."

"I think he may be." The Queen cut across him, seeing the lie in his eyes, "I can tell if someone is untruthful." Draco looked a little frightened of her now so the Queen relented a little. Putting her arm around him, she drew the boy closer, "Draco, my son is acting very strangely. I wish to know the cause. Anything said within this room shall not pass beyond."

After a while, Draco said, "Well, he did treat me a bit unfairly once. He was fighting orcs and he told me to stay in the coach. Well, I don't really know what came over me but I wanted to help. I nearly got killed but my Prince saved me. He was angry with me and scolded me for disobeying orders."

"But, he did not commend you for your effort?" Lindilwen was surprised, for she would have praised Draco for his courage if she were the Prince. Not many elves would confront veteran orcs alone,

"No. He only told me off for breaking the Servant's Pledge."

Lindilwen shook her head in disbelief. _That Servant's Pledge!_ "That _is _unfair, Draco. The family that my son and you saved," The boy's eyes widened slightly at mentioning him, "were very grateful for your efforts as much as the Prince's. You were very brave to face them." Draco's face seemed to relax as though with relief,

"I didn't think I was being brave." His face went a little pink, "I just wanted to help my Prince."

"Bravery comes in many forms, Draco." She gently pressed her lips upon his hair and thought how lovely a boy he was. _How could be the offspring of Lucius Malfoy?_ Then, Lindilwen's eyes lighted upon the white figure again and this time, she recognised it., "I see you have played us false, Draco."

"What...Your Highness?"

"That statue was stolen from the temple of Meleniel."

Judging by Draco's shocked expression, he obviously wasn't the culprit though, "I..." Fear entered into his face now,

"Where did you find it?" she asked, patiently,

"Er, it was given to me." That fear had turned to panic. _Perhaps he thinks that I will scold him and inform Hari,_ "A servant of the Lady Virgonal gave it to me."

"Ah." It all made sense now and Lindilwen's nod seemed to calm Draco a little, "Penialwel gave it to you, did she?"

"Er...well, I don't know her name..."

"Was she wearing black and had short red hair?"

"Yes."

"So, it is her."

"Please, Your Highness." Draco seemed to be more comfortable around her now, "Who is Penialwel?"

"A thief and an infamous one within her town for a time." Lindilwen had no anger or bitterness in her voice, "She stole from temples until she was caught and put into the service of the Lady Virgonal. I have met with her myself and I do not think her a threat. She has a good heart and stole only to support herself and her family. She did steal so much and had been imprisoned so often that my attention was aroused. I caught her attempted to steal my purse."

Draco's eyes widened but Lindilwen's face did not harden, "I had only just performed the marriage vows with the King and went abroad away from him to prove my loyalty, as is the custom. I came to the village where she was hiding from the Nimohtar who guarded that region and stalked her. From what she informed me, she had fled her town when her son ran away from it. She was searching for him."

"Please, Your Highness, why did he run away?"

Lindilwen was happy that Draco's confidence in her was growing, "When I found him, he informed me of his shame that his mother was a thief and that he was looked down upon for his parentage." A slight flicker of uncomfortable feeling flitted across Draco's face and Lindilwen remembered how his father held views of 'pureblood' supremacy and bullied 'mudblood' students, "When Penialwel was caught by my guards, they presented her to the Nimohtar. He, a hard-hearted elf, desired to see her hang but, seeing that she was about my age, I pitied her and requested a meeting with her.

There, I discovered all about her. She did not know my identity when she had robbed me and was most repentant of it. Using my power as the Princess of the time, I prevented the sentence falling. Instead, I requested her to be in the service of Ariador. However, seeing no positions for her, the Lady Virgonal, who was a friend of mine, took her in."

Seeing Draco was still a little uncomfortable, she added, "I do not think she has made any recent robberies. That statue had been gone for many hundred years before now."

"Who is her son, Your Highness? You said you found him?"

"Yes, I did." Lindilwen said, delicately, "I have attempted a meeting between them but the son wants nothing to do with his mother now and will not go to her. However," She added, "they have met, neither knowing who the other is. I realised from their common surname: Kemenor."

Draco clearly recognised the name, "But that's Leonas' surname!"

"Indeed. Leonas is her son."

The surprise was clear in Draco's face. Then, he stood up and picked up the statue of Meleniel, "I suppose I should return it."

"Oh, I think not." Lindilwen answered, calmly, "It has been long replaced and you do seem to like it. Penialwel gave it to you in all good faith so it is yours to keep."

The Queen wondered whether Leonas had seen the figure and whether he had recognised it too. As Draco glanced at it, he looked a little uneasy, "She is a good soul, Draco."

"No, it's not that, Your Highness. You see, I had a vision of Meleniel in a dream a fortnight ago."

"A vision?" Lindilwen sat up a little straighter, surprised. She'd heard of visions of the deities and all truthful ones had turned out to be correct in foretelling the future. The King was skeptical about these visions but the Queen was not,

"Well, she took me to the Festival of Harivosl. That's what I think it was..."

"Were there blue and silver decorations?"

"Yes. She took me to the town and showed me my Prince and the Lady Nardiel dancing together."

The Queen raised her eyebrows._ Draco had been sent a vision of the Lady Nardiel before she had come to Ariador? But, why? _Her question was soon answered when Draco added,

"She looked really angry when she saw them. Leonas said something about her not being happy with the relationship."

"He may be right." She nodded, a bad feeling growing in her stomach, "In the past, Meleniel has shown visions to those who care deeply for someone and whose love may not be requited soon." Draco's face fell, "Do you have feelings for my son, Draco?"

Draco's face grew a bit pink which gave him away instantly, "Well...yes, I do." He admitted, after a pause in which he couldn't seem to find a good lie. Lindilwen's face softened,

"Between you and I, Draco, I would prefer you to be the Prince's Nienna." The boy's eyes widened slightly in shock, "Nardiel displeases me and I will not allow her to be Queen after me."

After a short pause in which his eyes flicked to the door, Draco said, "She displeases me too, Your Highness. She mocks me whenever she looks upon me. Her servant, Andrond, is unpleasant too."

The Queen nodded, "We do come to an agreement on many things, Draco."

* * *

Nardiel sat in the room the Prince gave her. The plan was working better than she ever thought it would. The Prince had taken to her when they had met at the Festival of Harivosl. It mattered not if the other elves of the palace did not like her. The Prince had allowed her to stay and she'd been able to send many letters to the Drows from Ariador. _Right under the King and Queen's nose! What fools are they to have none in the palace who possess the Rinatula!_

The door opened and Andrond appeared in the room, "_You have the letters there, My Lady_?"

"_I do. They are prepared and ready. What of your news, for why would you come at this late hour?_"

"_My Lady,_" Without so much as bowing to her, he let himself into the room, closed the door and sat down uninvited, "_I have spoken to you about the problems posed by the Prince's human servant._"

"_Yes, and I do not think he will cause us great trouble. He is nothing but a foolish mortal and I am sure the Prince would send him back to his foolish mortal world if I commanded him to do it._"

"_He is a mortal, yes, but consider, my Lady, that a village idiot may be overlooked and allowed into a meeting of thieves. He carries the knowledge and may yet be foolish enough to repeat it to others. Still, your suggestion of disposing of him interests me. The Prince is away at present but we may yet set our plans in motion. I have traced Draco most closely over these weeks and I am quite certain that he has tender feelings for your lover._"

"_He?_" Nardiel raised her thin eyebrows, "_I thought humans did not approve of loves between the same gender._"

"_Yet those exist still._" Andrond stood up and strode around the room, "_I have seen his pitifully lovesick gazes and his unhappy glances when he chances upon the Prince and yourself._"

"_Would we use it against him?_"

"_Yes, Lady. You have a ready mind. I have sent him hither to wait on us. We shall discuss our plan with him and your false love in his tongue while he is here and, when he is incensed into rage, he shall be whipped for insolence! The marks upon his skin shall be enough for the Prince to send him on his way. Do you like the plot, My Lady?_"  
"_I do but, wait! Is that him coming?_"

"_It is, My Lady!_ _Prepare yourself!_" Nardiel excitedly drew the quill from the pot and wrote upon the parchment as the door opened. Draco, bringing a vessel full of wine on a tray, entered. He kept his head down and did not look upon Nardiel or Andrond. Clearly wanting to be away as quickly as possible, he set down the tray and made to leave,

"Wait a moment!" Nardiel had an idea and thought it excellent to use against the boy, "Your name is Draco, is it not?" She feigned a friendly smile and stood from her writing. Draco turned and nodded, looking a little perplexed but not suspicious, "Come, I hardly believe that you are a close servant to the Prince and yet I was not permitted to talk to you."

"If my Prince has forbidden it, I must not." Draco answered and his grey eyes seemed sad. Putting on a look of sympathy,

"Poor child to have such an unkind master! Come and sit by me upon this couch. Andrond, pour a cup for Draco and we will talk."

Andrond, though surprised at his mistress' behaviour, gave her a private smile, "_Most excellent, My Lady._" He said, in a quite Drow-tongue tone while bending over the vessel,

"_His trust shall be his undoing._"

"What was that?" Nardiel knew well what he meant but she had to give an explanation for the sudden Elvish, "What did you say to me? I am sorry, Draco." Nardiel turned to Draco, the false smile back on her face, "Andrond has the tendency to be very uncouth and rude to even his mistress."

Andrond passed Draco a filled cup, while muttering,

"_Good, good, My Lady. The drink shall be further cover!_"

"Silence, dog!" Nardiel pretended to be angry, while smiling inwardly at the compliment, "Really, Draco, I know not why I keep him! Come, come, drink. I would like you to be comfortable in my presence."

Looking a little more assured, Draco drank from the cup, "Have you never tried Elven wine?" She asked, sweetly, seeing the surprised look on his face,

"No, My Lady."

"Oh, come, Draco. Surely, your master, the Prince, has shared a cup with you in all friendly confidence. It is custom to me and, since I feel assured of my marriage to the Prince, I shall treat you like you are my servant as much as my Prince's." She spotted the aghast look on his face which flitted across it before he forced it to look normal again. _Andrond was right; he does love the Prince, _"Now, Draco, it is dull to drink without eating, is it not? Here," She plucked the largest of the Featherpeaches and forced it into his hand, "go on. Try it. I am sure you would love it."

After a pause, he took a bite. A drop of its purple juice trickled down his chin. With a tinkling laugh, Nardiel wiped it away and then put her arm around him, "Such a lovely boy! I do confess to know nothing of humans but I have such warm feeling towards them when I look on you!"

She pursued idle chatter with him, maintaining a friendly facade. Several cups of wine later, she was sure that it was starting to affect him, "Oh, Draco, it is no wonder that the Prince has kept you from me! You are much lovelier and more handsome than he! One would think he was jealous of you!"

"Jealous?" Draco repeated, bewildered,

"Yes. If you knew him as well as I," Nardiel went on, adding a slightly unhappy tone to her voice, "you would know that he was a jealous and heartless elf and I cannot love him."

The boy's mouth opened in surprise. _Excellent, he now believes all I say, _"Why do you stay, My Lady?"

"Because I must, loved boy!" She tightened her grip around him, "I was commanded here to spy on Ariador but I cannot stand the Prince!"

Draco looked absolutely aghast, "You-you're a spy..."

"Yes, I am. And perhaps you can help me since you are close to the Prince." Nardiel pretended to look excited as Draco gasped,

"But, who are you spying for?"

"The Drow, of course."

Draco gave an even louder gasp and he broke away from her, "You-you work for them?"

"Yes. Andrond works for them as well as me." Nardiel nodded, _The trap is closing, _"The Drow want to kill that awful Prince. Surely, if he is so cruel to you, you would want him dead also?"

She had to fight a smirk as utter horror filled Draco's face, "I-I don't want..."

"Oh, do not be frightened." She stood up and held out a hand, "The Drow will take good care of you once you join them. You need not worry about what those silly royals will do to you." She spotted the spark of anger in his eyes that she needed, "That Prince will never know what hit him and he will deserve it. He is a elf who is rotten to the core."

"That's a lie!" cried Draco, his face colouring, _Go on, boy. Become angry with me. Hate me, _"My Prince is not rotten!"

Nardiel allowed her friendly face to drop slightly, "But, Draco, he is so cold to all and I am sure he is you. He is not called Calasier Avamela for nothing. He deserves death! He does not love me nor anyone so no one should love him! He should die unloved and wretched! There is no spark of good in him or any in Valivial. I know of your unfair treatment at the end of them so why not take vengeance?"

A flicker of unexplained fear passed over Draco's face but he made no comment so she went on, "Join us, Draco. Make him pay for his unfeeling ways!"

"_Either way, he shall be done._" Andrond looked more and more excited by the minute, "_He shall either betray them or he shall be discredited. Either way, he shall be banished in disgrace!_"

Draco flew into the rage that they were hoping for, "My Prince is a wonderful elf and he does not deserve death! It is you that deserve death for deceiving my Prince!"

Nardiel took a step back as though stricken, "Draco! You should not say such things! To be rude to me means that you shall be whipped!"

"AND ALL THOSE I KNOW IN VALIVIAL ARE NOT MONSTERS!" Draco went on, in a wild rage that paid no heed to warnings, "THE DROW ARE THE MONSTERS!"

Then, Nardiel let her face give way to pure anger, "Andrond! Take him to the dungeons and whip him!"

"_My pleasure, My Lady._" With that, he grabbed hold of the boy and dragged him out of the room. Nardiel followed behind, smirking.

* * *

A/N: One question to ask: who do you hate more now? Hari or Nardiel?


	7. The Rusva Sisters

A/N: Holy Meleniel, a fast update! I have redeemed myself at last!

As for reviews, everyone seems to hate Nardiel the most.

**sweety-pie2712: **Maybe you'll think differently after this.

**Crystal Malfoy: **Aw, you really do feel for Draco, don't you?

**emeraud.silver: **Really?

**Shinri:** Eep! Don't worry, here's your update so don't hate me! I've read your Harry/Draco story, 'The Prince and the Slave'. I like it, it's pretty good.

**Moonlight Princess: **Of course I won't whip Draco! I'm not in the story, remember?

**articuno13: **What's a PIIEP?

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 7: The Rusva Sisters**_

Nardiel watched as Andrond dragged Draco down to the dungeons, who had to gagged since he was protesting so much. She'd never seen someone being whipped before and she'd never seen blood either. Now, she would see what the Drows lusted and, no doubt, feel the lust herself. _That rose-red liquid they told me about...oh, to see it at last!_

Andrond had a surprising amount of strength considering his size. Draco's height surpassed his by at least two feet yet Andrond could keep his hands behind his back and could push him down the stairs easily. _I never knew a race so small could have such strength in them. Perhaps that is why Andrond was chosen to serve them. _She'd always thought before that he was merely there to serve her. He had only come to her just before she went to Ariador,

"_Come on, you little runt!_" Andrond growled in the Drow-tongue, with the same rude tone Nardiel has only heard from the Drow-drones, "_Move! Move!_" Draco seemed to recognise the language and his eyes widened in fear. _He has good reason to. The fury of the Drow shall be torturous._ While taking the boy down, they took routes with the more elves in them. _The more witnesses, the more evidence we have for our story. Draco is unable to give the story so they shall serve as his enemies._

She spotted the Queen's serving elf on the ground floor who took one look at the party and dashed off towards the Main Entrance. _Running to her precious Queen, most likely._ Nardiel sneered to disguise that same strange feeling she had within her whenever she saw that elf. _What is her name?_ _Oh, it matters not!_

They encountered less and less elves as they moved further down. Once they were below ground, Andrond seemed to relax a little more. Halflings were at home underground, after all. So were the Drow-drones for they were great dislikers of the day. Draco tried to wriggle free again but he was held firm, "_You dare and I will slice you head to foot!_" Andrond snapped, harshly. The silly boy understood none of this, however, but Andrond did not speak in his tongue (_Do they call it 'English'?_) so it had to do.

Nardiel skirted the walls as Andrond tied Draco against the wall with his back bared. His arms stretched to their fullest extent, he was ready for the whip. Andrond stepped away for a moment and put on an overlarge smock which she supposed elves used when whipping someone to prevent bloodstains on their clothes, "_Will it please you to choose the whip, My Lady?_"

She was shown a neat array of different whips on a stand. Some were just long strips of wood and others had many tails of leather at the top. She chose one of these, the one with the most tails, since she had seen Drows carry them and felt an affirmity with it, "_A wise choice, My Lady. These tails shall tear his skin manyfold_." With that, he advanced on Draco, who was staring at the whip looking terrified. _So he should._

"You had your chance, Draco." She gave a dramatic sigh, "You could have avoided this by joining our cause."

The gag was whipped off and, instead of screaming, he glared at her, "Never...never..."

Andrond moved the whip back over his shoulder, "_A dozen, My Lady?_"

"_As many as you will._" Nardiel leaned against the wall idly,

"_You are generous, My Lady._" He turned back to the quaking boy and readied his hand. The whip came down in a flash. Draco cried out in pain as his clothes were split open, revealing angry red skin beneath. Andrond turned to her, "_Does this satisfy you, My Lady?_"

"_Hmm, no blood? How disappointing._"

"_Fear not, Lady. The next shall spill it._"

He turned back again and gave Draco another almightly lash. The cry was louder than before and, as promised, blood oozed from the clean splits on his skin. Nardiel moved forward to catch sight of the blood. There it was, just as she'd been told. Red as a blood-pearl yet with an ethereal shine...it was disgusting.

Never had Nardiel been filled with such a revulsion in her life. Andrond paid no notice; he was enjoying himself immensely. _Oh, how horrid! To enjoy seeing that!_ Stricken by this unexpected emotion, she took a few steps backwards. Draco's cries reverberated in her head and other voices, deep within her own memory, called out,

"_Run! Run, my sister!...The Wargs come!...Save yourself!_"

_...?_ _My sister...? _It was Draco's almighty scream that brought her to herself once more. His wrecked clothes were stained with the awful liquid and he was screaming in pain. His face was turned for a moment to her. _He is so young...No._ The thought fixed itself firmly in her head, displacing all others, _It should not be like this. Stop it, Andrond...Stop it..._

"_Stop it!_" She cried aloud and, in a reckless but triumphant movement, she snatched the wretched instrument from his hand. Tears prickled in her eyes. Never in her life had such emotion possessed her and fueled her with such energy before. Draco hung there, panting and sobbing.

Andrond was looking at her with an evaluating look on his face, like one who was wondering whether to throw away something or not. His musings were distracted by Draco's whimpering, "My Prince..." His voice was quiet but it betrayed such pain that the threatening tears spilled from Nardiel's face, "...My Prince...help me..."

"Your Prince is too far away to hear you!" Andrond snapped, in perfect English. Nardiel gasped, "He is not here to save you this time!"

"_Andrond..._" Nardiel gasped, "_...you..._"

"I am not the simple halfling you took me to be." Nardiel's eyes widened even more. Andrond's body was lengthening before her eyes, the arms and legs bandy, overlong and bent, his back hunched and ape-like. Whatever kindness had been in his face vanished and every part of him was blackening. The clothes, now too small, tore, leaving nothing but scraps on the floor. Leathery, rather stiff-looking wings grew from its back and veins pulsed outside the skin rather than inside. He stood at least seven feet high and had the strange look of being stitched back together,

"A revived Drow-drone!" She gasped, without meaning to. Draco too gasped, this time, in recognition,

"You!"

The Drow-drone leared at him, "Yes, little boy. The Prince may have killed me once but the almighty Drow Lords revived me to bring you back. Now, wench!" He pointed at Nardiel, who quialed in fright. The revived Drow-drones were more terrible and deadly than the originals. The originals were born from a process that could only produce one kind of creature, hence the name 'drone'. Once dead, the Drow could take the body parts of the Drow-drone and enhance it until it was a full blown monster. A monster with the intelligence of a full Drow and the strength of ten drones, one that could change its shape at will and only a magical sword could tear its skin.

_So, what chance does a whip stand?_ The revived Drow-drone leared at her too, "It has been so difficult to follow you like a servant. You are nothing but a foolish Mountain elf ensnared by our power."

"M-mountain elf?" This error momentarily distracted her from her fear, "I'm a W-Wood elf!"

"You were born a Mountain elf and was stolen by a Warg-rider. You have been so far away from your mountain home that your climbing muscles have faded away!" Nardiel quaked but listened to what the thing had to say, now interested despite her horror, "As have your memories, with our help. We found out that the sight of blood made you recollect so we had to confine you, of course. Endless spells to make you forget your former self. Some that I performed in my past existance. When you were ready, you were sent, with me to keep an eye on you, to do your job. Normally, we would have thrown your kind to the Wargs once you were primed and best to eat but we saw your good looks and decided to ensnare the Prince with you."

"And, what now?" The abomination was right. Her memories were returning. There was a Warg attack, high in a mountain peak. Her sister and she had fled their home, "What are you to do with me? Ensnare me once more?"

"You have wasted enough time and power already! No, you have served your purpose. You shall die with the boy. I shall devour you. It has been so long since I have fed. You are weakened by your isolation. We made you like that so you cannot resist me!"

The thing lunged at her. Nardiel screamed and lashed out with the whip. Forgotten by both of them, Draco fainted. All the conversation had been carried out in plain English and he had heard everything.

* * *

The lash from the whip was useless. It landed right between its dull, blank white eyes but, for all the good it did, she might as well had not done so. A horrible, gurgling laugh rumbled from its mouth, showing fangs with all the filth accumulated over centuries hanging onto it and breath to nearly make her faint, "Die, wench!" A clawed hand rose high and grabbed her hair. She screamed as it was pulled towards it. She felt as though her scalp would rip clean off if he pulled any harder.

The monster was enormous and unwieldy in the cramped dungeon. Every movement brought down weapons from the walls. A small dagger clattered in front of her and she thanked whatever deity was watching over her. She grabbed it and tried to stab blindly behind her. But it struck her hair instead and managed to cut it completely, freeing her from the thing's grip. The monster's hand rose again, its claws glimmering in the lantern-light, before...

It came clean off from the wrist. Before the thing could look around, a shining silver-white blade struck its neck and sliced off its head. Nardiel stood, staring around for her saviour as the thing crashed to the floor. A light was kindled and the corpse burnt, letting off a pleasantly sweet smell, "_They only smell good when they are burning. They cannot be revived once they have burned._"

The Prince was there, sword out and in full riding clothes. He seemed to have just returned to the castle. He gave the head a spiteful kick into the blaze, "_I should have known this one would come back._" He looked up and saw her. Then, he caught sight of the whip in her hand, "_And, what made you think that would do any good?_"

"_I..._" Normally, she was a good liar but, now, all the teachings of the Drows were fading and she was lost for words. Then, a treacherous drop of blood dripped onto the floor. The green eyes snapped to it automatically and, seeing no injury upon her, looked around for the source. Then, he saw Draco.

He did nothing for a half-second, staring at the unconscious, injured boy. Then, he gave an almighty scream that made Nardiel jump, "_DRACO!_" Forgetting the burning Drow corpse, he ran to the boy with almost unnatural speed and released him from his bonds. Then, he did the most unexpected thing in the world. Taking the poor boy in his arms with all kindness, he cradled Draco in his arms and crooned love-words to him under his breath as though he was the most precious thing in the world.

He stroked the injured back and Draco gave a little whimper like a dog in pain. The Prince shushed him and whispered soothingly in his ear. He seemed to be healing him with a spell since the injuries were beginning to close up. To see such an incredible show of affection from an elf whom she thought the most cold and loveless creature astonished her into silence.

He stretched out his cloak on the bloody floor and gently deposited Draco face down upon it. Nardiel stepped forward, timidly. _Could it possible that the Prince feels love for Draco as well? _The Prince stood and drew his sword again. When he turned to Nardiel, his face was shining with tears but alight with anger, "_YOU WENCH!_" He shouted, "_YOU HAVE DONE THIS, HAVE YOU NOT? AND WOULD HAVE THAT FILTH DEVOUR HIM?_"

"_No!_" cried Nardiel. She began to wish she didn't have the guilty whip in her hand. It clattered to the floor too late as she retreated from the furious Prince, "_It was Andrond before he-_"

"_HE TOOK THE ORDERS FROM YOU, DID HE NOT?_"

"_Yes, but-_"

Before she could form an explanation, the Prince had shouted, "_TREACHERY! A TRAITOR IS HERE!_"

"_Please, Your Majesty!_" Nardiel wailed, "_Hear me! I did not harm Draco and nor will I in my own mind again!_"

But, it was too late. Two soldiers burst into the room and the Prince pointed wildly at her, "_THERE SHE IS! LOCK HER AWAY AND MAY SHE ROT THERE!_" The soldiers grabbed her shoulders roughly and dragged her backwards. Her cries were drowned by his shriek, "_I SHALL SEE YOU DIE FOR THIS!_" All the way to the dungeon, cold dread and fear filled her.

* * *

An ache remained as Draco woke. For a moment, he did not remember what had happened. Then, the images of the previous events flooded his head, the whipping, the monster, all assailing his mind far too quickly. He opened his eyes in a flash and had to screw them up again due to the bright light flooding into them. As he lay there, he thought about what had happened in that dungeon, _Nardiel saved me...she changed when I was whipped...she looked different...Andrond said blood made her remember...But why did they talk in English?...Why would they let me understand?...My Prince...He has to know..._

There was the sound of a door opening and Draco opened his eyes again. After a while of getting used to the light, he saw with a jolt that his Prince was standing over him, glaring down upon him, "My Prince..." He gasped,

"What have you done?" His voice was calm but His eyes were darkening with anger. Draco became afraid and instictively retreated into the sheets of his bed,

"It was Andrond, Sire. He turned into a monster-"

"I know." His Prince held up a hand to silence him, "Yet, it would not have happened had you not deserved the whipping."

"But, Sire, they were trying to-"

"Andrond is dead." The news of this muted Draco, "Nardiel awaits in a cell to stand trial for treason."

"Sire," Draco tried again, desperate for him to know the truth, "she was not herself! She was being controlled by those Drows!"

His Prince's face hardened, "How and why she performed these acts are no concern of mine. Her crimes are still there. As soon as you are able to stand, you shall return to my service, which shall be restricted to Ariador and its grounds after this incident. No, I shall be deaf to all pleading." For Draco had opened his mouth to protest at this. With a swish of his hair, He left the room, leaving Draco to lie down and feel ashamed of himself. Even though he knew that he'd done nothing wrong, his Prince's words echoed in his mind.

The wounds from the whip kept him in bed for two days and, on the third day, he could walk slowly but his Prince was still not satisfied. His sneers made Draco go bright crimson and he felt more inadequate than ever. The prospect of being confined to Ariador for a unknown amount of time grew more and more dreadful with every day that passed.

On the fourth day when he felt a little stronger but still could not convince his Prince so, the door of his room opened and Arawen came into the room. Draco was sitting on his bed, contemplating the future sorrowfully, and looked up to see her come in, "Are you alright, Draco?" She asked, anxiously,

"Better than I was." Draco nodded, mournfully. Seeing his discomfort, Arawen sat down beside him and put an arm around him,

"What troubles you, Draco? Do you fear the Prince's anger?"

"Yeah, that. And other things." Draco nodded, feeling more comfortable around Arawen. Perhaps it had something to do with her being the first friendly face he encountered in Valivial, "Where's Nardiel? Is she still imprisoned?"

"Yes. She is in a cell in the dungeons below us. She will stand trial for treason in two weeks."

"But," Draco frowned, "she was being controlled. The Drow were just using her!"

"That may be true." Arawen sighed, "However, the law states that, in order to be proven of being controlled, a person from their life before intervention from the Drow have to present themselves. They have to be a close relative or friend. The Drows know this so they kill the families of those they ensnare to prevent this taking into action."

"But, that's not fair!" Draco cried. He couldn't bare the picture in his mind of Nardiel imprisoned perhaps for the rest of her life because she could not prove her past life, "Therer could be dozens of elves who were controlled in prison now who can't prove it!"

"I know." Arawen nodded, "But the law stands. Only the Kings and Queens can change the laws. You see, that law came into force because some of the captured servants lied to the authorities to escape imprisonment. Only those with the _Rinatula_ can detect the truth from lies."

"Who's got the _Rinatula _here?" Draco asked, thinking that he could convince them to confirm Nardiel's innocence,

"Who knows." Arawen sighed again, "It is a very rare gift. Those who have live in faraway lands that will not lend their aid to us. Until someone in Valivial is born with the _Rinatula_, that law cannot be lifted."

Draco looked down at his knees. A new dread and hopelessness took hold of him. What if Nardiel could not prove her innocence? What could he do to stop that terrible law coming upon her head? "That monster," He said, without meaning to, "he said that she was a Mountain elf but she lost her 'climbing muscles'. What are those?"

Seemingly glad to get away from this dreary subject, Arawen pulled up her sleeve and showed Draco an unexpectedly muscular arm, "Mountain elves have more defined muscles than Wood Elves. We often have to climb mountains and cliffs to reach necessities or our homes. The Queen allows me to climb walls and trees to maintain these muscles. Still, if you are born with them, you cannot fully be rid of them. By looking, you may tell where they were. They can still be renewed with climbing and use after centuries and even millenia."

"Could you have a look at Nardiel's arms, then?" Draco asked, an idea coming to him. Arawen seemed to see this idea and gave him a sympathetic smile,

"I shall, Draco. But, it will not be enough to prove her innocence." She stood, nonetheless, and they strode out of Rhunithil and down stairs after stairs. _No wonder all these elves are in good shape. _Draco thought, _All these stairs to go up and down every day._ Draco's back began to hurt again when they reached the ground floor and he had to be reluctantly supported by Arawen.

Going to the dungeons meant having to pass through the place where he was whipped and, even though there was no trace of blood, looking at the place made his wounds tingle a little. They passed down more steps and it grew increasingly darker as they descended. Draco had never been to Azkaban but he couldn't help but wondering whether Dementors existed here.

Thankfully, they didn't and there were only stern-looking guards there. Arawen passed them by with a word in Elvish and one of them opened the door to the cell at the far end of the first corridor. Nardiel sat in a corner with her knees pulled up to her throat. Her hair was cut short and the streaks of make-up showed that she had been crying. A sack-cloth shawl was draped on her shoulders over the same thin dress she'd worn before imprisonment. She looked up when Draco and Arawen entered, "Draco," She said, addressing him first, "oh, Draco, forgive me-"

"That's okay." Draco waved a hand, finding it strangely easy to forgive her when seeing her in such a pitiful state. Arawen knelt beside her,

"May I look at your arms?"

Nardiel frowned in confusion, "Why?"

"If you are a Mountain elf, the traces of the muscles will remain." She lifted Nardiel's sleeve and felt her thin arms. Draco watched with baited breath. After a minute's inspection, Arawen pulled the sleeve down again, "There are traces still. You are a Mountain elf." Draco couldn't help but smile. It wasn't much but it was a start. Nardiel looked relieved too,

"So, the monster was telling the truth."

Arawen then seemed to see something in her face. She took hold of Nardiel's cheeks and turned her head to look right at her. Arawen stared long and hard at her, as though trying to see right through her. Then, she released her and sat down on the floor opposite her, pulling her knees up so she was sitting in exactly the same way as Nardiel. Draco had no idea what was going on but watched from the other side of the small room,

"What do you recall of your past?"

"More comes to me every day." Nardiel replied, "Names are far away. I lived in a mountainous land in a dwelling surrounded by tall pines. I had a sister and my mother was a Nimhoter."

"A Nimhoter?" Arawen repeated, staring intently at her again, "Did she always wear blue?"

"Yes."

"Do you think her given name may have been Luindraug?"

"Y-yes, it is!" Nardiel stared at her, "Do you know me?" Draco too looked round to stare at Arawen, who gave no answer to this and went on,

"What names do you remember now?"

"None more." Nardiel was now looking hopeful, "Do you know of any?"

"Marilla." Nardiel's eyes widened as Arawen said it, "Marilla Rusva is your name. Arawen Rusva was the name of your mother. Arawen Rusva was the name of your sister too." It was Draco's turn to look suprised. _Nardiel's Arawen's sister? _"That sister told you to run while she intended to sacrifice herself to the Wargs."

"How do you know this?" Nardiel asked, her voice barely a whisper. Arawen reached into a pocket and took out a handkerchief. With it, she leaned fowards and wiped the make-up clean from Nardiel's face. After she had done so, Nardiel pulled the cloth from her hand and examined it. It had a roughly stitched letter A sewn into the corner, "I made this for my sister." She looked back up at Arawen's face, "Can you be-?"

In silence, the two rose to their feet, staring into each other's faces. Even in the dim light, Draco began to see similarities: the dark hair and their height. Nardiel, however, was slighter and thinner. Draco supposed that she was the younger of the two fo them. In the while they stared at each other, a sort of understanding came between them that needed no words. Then, their faces lit up and had embraced each other in a second,

"Oh, lost Marilla! Orthion has blessed us both!"

"He has blessed us with Draco!"

"Wha-?" But Draco didn't have time to ask as both elves pulled him into a hug and kissed him on both cheeks.

* * *

A/N: Aw, what a cute ending!


	8. Maltandir's Mistake

A/N: Another fast update but this will be the last for a while. I'm going on holiday tomorrow but I can take my laptop with me so, hopefully, I'll have a chapter finished by the time I come back.

**sweety-pie2712: **Ah, that is the big question!

**Alexiel:** Ah, you just keep reading this and see what happens.

**evildictionaryninja: **I was just wondering where you were for chapter 6. I guess I was too quick for you! I'm glad you didn't expect it, that tells me that I've done a good job.

Less reviews this time around. I hope to get a load of reviews when I get back!

_**

* * *

****Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 8: Maltandir's Mistake**_

_How could I be such a fool?_ Hari sat on his balcony in a fury, clutching his fringe so hard that he was in danger of tearing it out. _I should have burned that Drow when I had the chance! To think that I was not even present at Ariador when it had happened! Oh, Draco could have been killed!_ His hands shook when he thought of it, _Oh, that daughter of a dog! The false traitor of her kind! She shall rue the day she dared...she dared...!_ Even his thoughts were incoherent, his rage was so great, _And, Draco! Oh, would he not so easily walk into danger and put me out of patience so!_

His furious thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Looking around, he saw his mother entering. The Queen smiled at him and, though her smiles were known to warm any heart, Hari was far too used to them to allow them to cheer him up. In fact, the smile only vexed him further. _How can she smile when such a terror happened only four days ago? Oh, the evil of the female race to smile at such times!_

"_Why do you smile, Athara? I have been betrayed._"

"_She was being controlled._" The Queen's smile faltered a little and she bravely sat down beside him, "_That has been proven._"

"_What?_" Hari's head jerked up,

"_Yes. She is Marilla, the sister of Arawen._"

Hari stared at her, "_And, where is the proof of that?_"

"_Arawen recognised her. From what she informed me, Draco persuaded her to go down to her cell to check whether she was a Mountain elf or not._"

"_And, she was?_"

"_Yes. Marilla shall be officially cleared tomorrow._"

"_What?_" Hari was outraged, _That wench cannot be cleared!_ The Queen patted him on the shoulder,

"_I know of her crimes but she cannot be punished for what she did while under the control of others. That is the law._"

"_You are the Queen!_" Hari's voice rose, standing up._ This cannot be allowed to happen! _"_Change the law! She must be punished! She must have passed on all our secrets to the Drow!_"

"_Surely,_" The King appeared on his other side, "_you suspected something? You did not give away anything important, did you?_"

"_No, I had suspicion but-_"

"_Well, then,_" The King chortled, making Hari ever more angry, _Do they understand nothing?_ "_what fuss you make for nothing!_"

"_Nothing? __**Nothing?**_" His parents raised their eyebrows at such a show of emotion from Hari. For he had overturned his seat in his fury and glared at the both of them. Losing his control did not matter, he had to make them understand, "_That wench tricked me and all of us! She betrayed her kind and passed secrets on to our enemies! Is that __**nothing**__?_"

"_She was captured and controlled from a young age._" The Queen said, patiently, "_You cannot blame her and she could not resist it._"

"_Her crimes cannot be erased from history!_" Hari cried, "_What of any information has she found without my knowledge? What of all the letters she sent to the Drow? What of Draco-?_" Hari suddenly realised what he was about to say and stopped himself. He had said too much and he knew it. The Queen stood and he tensed,

"_Draco? He is recovering well. You need not worry._"

Hari put on the cold face everyone had associated with him and glared at her, "_I am not worried for his welfare. For all I care, he may have been stabbed in his neck. He has been a liability from the start and is no necessity to me. He shall be confined only to Ariador for his foolishness and I shall be better without him for the upcoming battle at our Southern border._"

With that, he left his parents looking oddly stricken, _It is nothing. It shall be kinder to Draco to let him remain here where he is safe. He has given me enough trouble as it is._

* * *

For the next two weeks, Draco was just as miserable as ever. He had been in the service of his Prince for over two months and had already fallen out of favour with Him, _Was I ever in His favour to start with?_ For some reason, Draco began to sympathize with Dobby. He had been looked down upon and Draco began to dread that his Prince would treat him the same way, _What if he strikes me?_

From there on in, he did everything he could to obey every command his Prince gave him and suppressed any desire to disobey, no matter how reasonable the reason may be. He'd learned that his Prince would not forgive him and wished more than anything that he would be praised for his obedience. But, none came, as usual. Ever since Marilla's release, in particular, his Prince was more snide and hard to please than ever. From then on, Draco learned that praise from Him came only in silence.

Draco despaired. He had not been allowed to accompany his Prince outside Ariador and there were days when he was never called out of his room. On those days, he lay on his bed in the same unhappy lethargy that accompanied him when He had courted Nardiel (Draco had taken to addressing Nardiel and Marilla as separate people rather than the same one), wondering whether his Prince had forgotten him. On those days, that seemed longer than years, every failure he had made seemed tenfold more terrible and he thought that his Prince would have good reason to shun him, _What am I but a plain little mortal among beautiful, wise elves? _At such times, Draco couldn't help but cry. How could he be so stupid as to think He would ever think him more than a simple servant? Why did he not realise it before?

The statue of Meleniel was left to collect dust beneath his bed. What reason had he now to pray to her? Instead, he wistfully took out the trinkets he'd collected from the servant of the many houses and turned them over in his hands. _Those servants are better than I am. Their masters and mistresses allow them to have these things and my Prince will not even allow me to have a jewel in my fastening._

Marilla and Arawen were regular visitors to Draco when he was in such a depression. Somehow, they always seemed to know when he was most upset and came in at exactly those times. Marilla was growing her hair back and Arawen was washing it in the herbs needed. By the tenth day after her imprisonment, it was starting to look more like its old self. She wore no make-up on her face now and she was applying for employment in Ariador. She seemed so happy now. This happiness could not extend to Draco. The sisters sat on either side of him and tried to consol him. Their words barely reached his brain. They never told him what he wanted to know: where He was, what He was doing. He asked but they would never answer properly.

Leonas visited him, also, when he could spare a moment. Since he was Draco's 'superior', he said that he felt the need to check on Draco. He discovered him looking over the trinkets and, perhaps in an effort to take Draco's mind off his Prince, identified them all, telling a story behind each one. For there always seemed to be a story behind everything. Hearing them made Draco feel more like he did not belong than ever. Having to be told about little things made him feel smaller than everyone else and he had none of the inquisitive excitement he'd possessed months ago when he first came to Ariador.

His curiousity sparked, however, on the fifteenth day after Marilla's release. His Prince had been absent from his sight for two days He had wandered over to his small window of his room and peered down into the courtyard. Draco was most surprised to see it packed with people. The marble-white of the flagstones were invisible due to the shear mass of people.

Thinking that it was at least something other to do than wallowing in sorrow, he pulled on a coat against the chilly new-spring air and hurried down the many steps. He was hot and breathless by the time he reached the courtyard but all exhaustion vanished as he peeked around the double doors. There, unmistakably, seated upon the silvery Helin, was Him, his Prince. He was in full armour and was talking in bold Elvish to what looked like a whole army of armoured elves. The sight of it was breathtaking and inspiring to Draco. He had never seen Him in armour and looking so noble and commanding.

His first thought, that came without restraint, was to get a closer look without his Prince seeing him. He hurried down a corridor and slipped out a small side-door that led into the patches of trees around the Palace. Using the tall, leafy trees for cover, he crept around the army until he had a clear view of his Prince. _Oh,_ he thought, irritably, _I've been here for over two months and I still can't understand a word of Elvish._ _He must be saying something wonderful._

Hiding behind the many overhanging branches of a willow, he realised that the armour He was wearing looked oddly familiar. _I have seen him that armour before but where?_ Then, a round, golden canvas caravan full of what sounded like armour and sword moving a few feet forward and blocked Draco's view. Irritated at the driver's thoughtlessness, he moved out from his hiding place to find a better one, not bothering to check if anyone was watching,

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Draco jumped so much that he nearly fell over. Balancing himself, he looked up at the driver of the caravan. The elf was wearing gold and tan clothes and Draco had never seen another like him. Elves of Ariador were normally pale-skinned, his Prince pale as snow, but this one had a golden tint to his visage. He also had short golden hair (elves normally grew their hair long) and even a short bushy beard. No elf he had seen had beards. His shaven top lip showed the youthfulness of the Elves, however, and his blue eyes were gentle, looking down with benign surprise on his face. At once, the elf dropped the reins of his horse and leapt down to meet him,

"So, we finally meet. You must be Draco." He held out a tough-skinned, strong-knuckled hand and, at first, Draco didn't know what to do. Then, he realised that the elf was offering a handshake and, a split second after the elf had held out his hand, Draco took it. They shook briefly and the elf smiled. He spoke in the best English Draco had heard in Valivial, "I don't know if the Prince has told you about me but I am Verimir Moorefield, Head of the Nimohtar Order or Valivial. I'm also known as Maltandir and everyone likes to call me that."

Draco had not heard anything about Nimohtars or about this Maltandir. This must have shown in his face since Maltandir put his head to one side and said, "You haven't heard of me?"

"No. My-my Prince has told me nothing of it. Mind you," He added, without really meaning to, "he does not tell me much." Then, realising what he had said, he clapped a hand to his mouth. Maltandir, however, gave a small chuckle,

"It's alright. I won't tell the Prince. Now then," He sat down against the wheel of his caravan, "I couldn't help noticing how downhearted you looked as you approached."

"You saw me?" Draco gasped. He thought he had been secret until then,

"We Nimohtars are rangers, Draco. We track orc, Drow and others. We can see when someone is spying and sneaking toward us." He smiled at Draco's aghast expression, "I don't think anyone else saw you, though. The rest of the Nimohtars are near the back. Now, do tell of your misery."

Draco glanced down at his feet for a moment before looking up and saying, "I have not seen my Prince for a long time. I'm afraid that I have fallen out of favour with him. He seems not to appreciate me." He had said too much before he'd realised it but Maltandir nodded, attentively, gesturing for him to go on, "I do miss him when he's away. I think very highly of him but I have displeased him many times." Wanting to get away from this embarrassing subject, he looked over at his Prince, who had his back to them and was gesturing out of the castle, "What's going on? Why are so many people here?"

Maltandir stood and looked over at his Prince too, "The Akhohr and the Nimohtar march south to fend off Orcs that aim to deface the oak of Elenya on our Southern border." Draco understood none of this but registered that they were going to war. Suddenly, a trumpet sounded from the front line and there were shouts and battle cries all around,

"We're on the move!" Maltandir said, unnecessarily. He pulled himself up onto his caravan and then, did what Draco least expected. He reached down, seized Draco by the scruff of the neck and pulled him up onto the caravan, "Hide yourself!" Draco dare not try to jump down since it had begun to move so he scrambled between the flaps and among the boxes of swords and shields. It was not very comfortable to squeeze himself between them and they rattled precariously as the caravan moved. Any moment, one of the heavy boxes could fall and rip the canvas.

The canvas itself gave a golden tint to everything and it was impossible to distinguish whether the metal on the shields was gold or silver. He could see that they all bore the mark of Valivial: a golden tree with four stars around it. Leonas had told him about it and, upon seeing it, his mind wandered back to Ariador. He realised that he had not told anyone where he was going and thought about what might happen when they found him missing.

After a short while, Maltandir left his horse, who seemed to know the way without being driven, and climbed back into his caravan, "Not very comfortable, is it?" He asked, seeing Draco squashed between boxes. When the boy shook his head, Maltandir chuckled politely, sitting down cross-legged in front of Draco, "So, you are the Prince's servant now. Last time I saw you, you were in the healing tent after the Drow fort siege."

"You were there?" Draco realised he had not yet discovered something, "Was it you, then? Who saved me?"

"No." Maltandir shook his head, "No, I was battling the Drow-drones at the time and caught sight of the one who did."

"Who was it, then?" Draco leaned in closer, his curiousity burning. Maltandir gave him a strange look,

"Why, the Prince, of course!" Draco was completely thrown by this. His Prince had saved him? But, why? Why hadn't he been told? "He really doesn't tell you much, does he?" Maltandir looked curious too, "You know, Draco, my boy, the Prince had a few problems hiring you. There were several other likely candidates. A few people thought it was too soon because Talethion had died too recently and it was thought disrespectful to replace him so soon. And, there was the fact that you were mortal. There were those who thought you wouldn't be any good."

"My Prince included." Draco said, bitterly. Again, he seemed to say things without meaning to in front of Maltandir but he knew them to be the truth,

"Eh, what's that?" Maltandir looked puzzled again,

"Erm..." Draco went a little pink and felt guilty at the prospect of having to talk badly of his Prince, "...well, like I said, he doesn't really appreciate me. Not since I first came into his employment..."

Maltandir frowned, "He seemed adamant that it had to be you, though. What does this behaviour mean?"

"Maybe he's just hard to please." Draco shrugged, wanting to avoid the dreaded conclusion he thought would come,

"That, he is." Maltandir nodded, "But, if you say he treated you unfairly from the beginning, then being so determined to hire you seems foolish. I believe something is missing, here." He turned his head to the tent flap thoughtfully. Draco too was confused. _Why did he hire me if he knew I would be useless? Of all those to choose from, why me?_ "You say that he treated you unfairly from the start?" He was pulled from his thoughts by Maltandir's question,

"Yes." Draco felt hot and awkward again, "Well, I suppose he thought I was stupid because I was a human. He didn't expect me to know things."

"Like what?"

"Like the Servant's Pledge. But I learned that from Arawen, the Queen's servant. I asked her to give me lessons on how to be a good servant."

"You were looking forward to it?"

"Yes, I was. I liked my Prince."

"Liked?" Maltandir leaned in closer, as if trying to stare him out and Draco instinctively stopped himself blinking, "A fair bit more than liking in my opinion." Draco gave a little start. _Was it that obvious? Does he have the Rinatula?_ "From the evidence I found, you do a bit more than like the Prince. You must do, if you can put up with him." He added, with a small chuckle,

"Yeah." Draco nodded, feeling a little better, "I do really like him."

"Now, then," Maltandir leaned back against a box of swords, partly to stop it toppling as the cart rounded a bend, "what other things has the Prince done to you?"

So, the conversation went on until Draco felt he'd told Maltandir everything about his time at Valivial. The annoying thing was that he often pressed Draco for more details which took a little while to supply and satisfy him. Maltandir took in every word, nodding at every sentence, and seemed to grow increasingly disturbed about something which he did not express.

The light filtering through the canvas grew dimmer and Maltandir peered out, "We approach the border. Our journey is nearly over" Draco remembered the map he had been given and knew that Ariador was in the southern part of Valivial. Maltandir stood and began climbing over boxes and crates, "Stay here, Draco. I'll need to be at the assembly." With that, he went through the flap and vanished from sight.

Having explained everything in spoken words to Maltandir and Maltandir's own explanations made Draco think about his Prince in a different light. _Why was he so keen to keep me here? If he really thought I was useless, why doesn't he send me back?_ A month earlier, a warm feeling would have entered into him at the thought that maybe his Prince didn't despise him after all. Now, no such feeling came to him. _But, he abandoned me for days. Maybe, he's losing his interest in me._ A bit of dread came into him, _Maybe he will send me back after all. Maybe I've let him down._

The caravan slowed and eventually trundled to a stop. Maltandir slipped into the caravan and began picking up boxes, "I need to get this equipment to the Akhohr."

"Do you want some help?" Draco saw him struggling a little,

"Put your hood up first. We don't want the Prince to recognise you. That's the last thing we want!" Draco obeyed and took hold of the box of swords that Maltandir was just about to drop. The manual work was a chance to take his mind off those dreadful thoughts of his Prince sending him back to Malfoy Manor, which was now a faded memory like a dream.

Soldiers around them picked out their swords and shields from the crates he and Maltandir passed out. Draco was amazed that they could pick out the right ones since, to him, they all looked the same. He supposed that elves had enhanced vision and could detect any differences invisible to his eye.

* * *

A/N: See ya when I get back!


	9. The Wrath of the Prince

A/N: I'm back! The holiday wasn't great but, then again, I wasn't expecting much. Now, brace yourselves. Over the holiday, I have completed not one, not two, but THREE, that's right, THREE WHOLE CHAPTERS. I'll give them a few days gap between posting though.

**RRW: **I know. Someone really needs to slap Hari upside the head with some sense.

**Crystal Malfoy: **Yep. He always ends up saving Draco, doesn't he?

**sweety-pie2712: **I went down the Thames on a narrowboat. I know, not exactly the Bahamas. Half the time, we got rained on. I'm surprised the river didn't flood, actually. If you ask me, that damn holiday went on far too long! I hate that damn boat!

**zZzQueen: **I know. Hari's a strange character, isn't he?

**evildictionaryninja: **Yep, Maltandir's just putting it together. And, the King and Queen will contribute. Keep reading!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 9: The Wrath of the Prince**_

Hari lay in his tent, not even bothering to take off his armour and, as always when alone, his mind turned to Draco. He imagined him in Ariador, lonely and maybe missing his Prince. _It is better for him there. _He told himself. _He is safer, far safer in the eyes of Arawen and Leonas. They will take care of him. _Then, he became troubled, _Does he despair? Have I gone too far in my efforts to spurn him? Surely, this should be enough._

He made up his mind in an instant, _Yes. From the day I return to Ariador, I shall renounce my cold ways toward him. And love, I will show gradually. _He happily imagined for a moment how Draco would react to this. He would be delighted, of course. It would be his dream come true. The dream Hari had given him. The doubt that had lain dormant for the last two months awoke again. He was uneasy and unsure of whether he had done the right thing. Guilt squirmed within him. If it made Draco do something reckless and potentially lethal...

It had happened before. He had attacked orcs and defied Drow spies. _That Nardiel. She is not Marilla; she is Nardiel, the spy. She brought that pain upon Draco. Oh, cursed Orthion for bringing her sister and diverting the law from her head!_ It was Draco's sudden recklessness that was making Hari worry. _If he were to crack and run from Ariador to find me..._

He pushed himself off his bed, pulled on his cloak and strode out into the quiet campsite. The soldiers were all settling down to sleep and some sat outside, sharpening their weapons. He told these soldiers to take some rest. It would be a hard battle tomorrow, he could see plainly. The orcs were many and armed to the teeth (quite literally since some orcs had razors planted in their gums instead of teeth). It would be a bitter fight and he kept thinking that he was missing something. He had done something wrong somewhere but he couldn't think where.

He could always think more clearly when he was alone and even more at night. He had heard the ridiculous stories about him being more comfortable at night since he was a servant of Ithilio, the deity of the moon who was beautiful but cold and heartless. _That must be what they think of me. _Striding away from the camp, he immersed himself in the trees. They were five miles from the oak of Elenya, which the elves treasured as one of their most beloved trees.

He recalled the myth that Elenya herself, the deity of nature and the earth, lived in its bows and blessed those who worshipped her. Thus, farmers often made pilgrimages to the oak of Elenya every few years to wish for good crops and fertile soil. Hari had been told this tale when he was a child by his grandmother but had skeptical views of it, now. His skeptical attitude extended toward most of the deities and he scorned the myth. _Elenya is a fool to live in one place and make us waste our time on protecting just one tree. _It had not been his decision to advance upon the orcs in the first place; he had been persuaded by his father.

Presently, he strode further and further away from his camp, not really looking where he was going. The moon rose and bathed him in its light. He was upon a wide path where goods were transported between Alqualond and Valivial. He was close to the Weness marshes now. He could almost hear the water splashing when the fish swam to the surface. Distantly, he heard the distinctive sounds of a night tavern. He had just passed into Alqualond.

The Prince couldn't help but scowl. He had a private feud with that land for four hundred years. A band of their Akhohr (known to them as the Hydana) were soldiers by day but bandits at night, calling themselves the Fanka Gang. They robbed, murdered and even sexually assaulted innocent people. Those band even had the nerve to rob the Prince. Hari had seen them do other terrible things but, always, they left no proof, had scarves wrapped around their heads so no one recognised them and they could not be punished by their laws. The crimes were always done by the unknown Fanka Gang and there was no proof of any of them being in the army. Hari felt he must be the only one who knew they were soldiers: he did not know their names but had recognised them in their ranks during a battle in which Alqualond and Valivial fought together.

The injustice of it all made a confined fire burn within him; frustrated and wanting revenge to be exacted. _What terrible deeds do they perform this night? Ithilio, do you see them? You must believe they must be punished. _A fierce desire to punish them himself seized him whenever he thought about it. The dratted Alqualond laws, however, prevented him from attacking their army without starting a war between the countries. _Oh, would Queen Mirima see the injustice in her own lands! Would Celemarin see and allow her Nimohtars to revenge their victims!_ _Then, I would be satisfied._

He kicked a nearby stump in anger and strode on with his sword drawn. He knew that their leader (whom he swore had some orc blood in him) took great pleasure in taunting him, rubbing in the fact that Hari could not punish him. The very sight of them made his blood boil and thinking about them made every fibre in his body burn with anger.

Suddenly, he heard horses, a large number of horses, galloping towards him from behind. Thinking it was perhaps his scouts with news of the orcs, he turned around. There was a rattle of a cart among the horses' hoof beats and this ruled out the possibility of the scouts. They did not take carts with them since they had to be as quiet as possible.

The figures came closer and closer and spotted him in the middle of the road. They slowed and formed a circle around him. Now, Hari saw who they were and his rage peaked. It was them. The Fanka Gang, all looking triumphantly down at him as though they knew something he didn't. The sword raised a little higher in Hari's hand,

"_Well, well, well! We have caught you this time, Calasier Avamela!_" Whirling round, he saw Caradfanka, the leader. His scarf, though colourless in the moonlight, was bright red, hence his self-invented nickname, meaning 'red scarf'. The Fanka Gang gave themselves nicknames like the Nimohtars and this insult to them was more of a reason to loathe them, "_It's our lucky night, lads!_"

There was a hateful cheer of approval from the surrounding crowd. The Prince spotted the cart which was covered by tarpaulin and had something writhing within it, _Another prize from their pillaging, I should think_, "_What have you captured this time, Caradnyano?_" Hari preferred to call 'rats', instead of 'scarves', since this was more befitting in his eyes and it irritated them. Caradfanka scowled and jeered,

"_You're not in a position to call me that. You'd better run back to your little army before it's too late._"

"_What?_" All of the Fanka gang were present, he could see that. _He is tricking me. _This assurance, however, was shattered when Caradfanka held up a large clinking sack of what sounded like gold,

"_We were paid a good amount by the orcs to let them in your little base camp. I suppose your dear Akhohr is being slaughtered as I speak._" Hari's eyes widened. This, he would never have expected. He knew the Fanka Gang did terrible things but never considered they would ally with their own country's enemies, "_Speechless, are we?_"  
"_The orcs are your own enemies._" Hari felt this had to be a lie. They had to be making him panic on purpose as some kind of sick joke,

"_Oh, not any more!_" The hated Fire elf delved into the sack and drew out a few coins. With that, he threw them at Hari, who deftly caught all of them, "_Check them for yourself. We haven't got time to chat. Not now we have a new toy to play with. Forward!_" All of the vile party charged away, kicking Hari as they passed, and passed out of sight,

_He jests. _Hari shook his head, _He cannot have turned to the orcs. He has killed them in battle, they would not accept him._ He opened his palm, expecting to see fake coins with joking messages carved upon it. The moon went behind a cloud and obscured his view of them. Removing a glove, he felt one of them in his palm. What he felt made his previously boiling blood freeze within his veins. There was the distinctive embossed pattern of orc money.

As silence fell once again, he could hear faint screaming of dying orcs...and elves. Swearing under his breath, Hari fled down back down the path. It was dark but it wouldn't have mattered if it had been broad daylight. He ran in a blind panic down the path, up the slope and through the trees. _Oh, Turil, how you mock me! Do you avenge your sister with this misfortune?_

Finally, he reached his camp where utter chaos reigned. Orcs, dozens of armoured, bloodthirsty orcs, darted in and out of blood-stained, once-golden tents armour. They had been taken completely by surprise and no one seemed to have seen it coming. Bodies of slain Akhohr littered the ground and the terrible stench of blood hung in the air. Those fighting had no armour and had only shields to defend themselves.

Immediately, Hari threw himself into the fray, cutting down every orc in his path. _How many have been slain from the Akhohr? How many have those rats sentenced to death by their greed?_ The captains on duty came into view. They were having the most success with fending off the orcs but they were outnumbered and being overwhelmed. _Oh, where are the Nimohtar? They should help us! They would not be taken so unawares._

Orcs were swarming towards him now they had noticed him there. Hari's rage and horror aided him and he fought madly, finding energy he had no idea he had possessed. He gave his enemies no chance to fight back but slew them all as soon as they came within sight. After finding a sword from a fallen soldier, he fought with both, killing twice as many as normal. Orc after orc fell dead on the ground. Every one he killed felt like a payment, a homage, to every soldier killed in his camp. Every moment, he wanted to turn back and chase the Fanka Gang, to make them pay for their destruction, _Orcs...Fanka...orcs...Fanka..._

He was reaching the centre of the camp and he could see his tent out of the corner of his eye, burning. Unlike Drows, orcs did not mind fire. Many tents were on fire and it was spreading. Hari contemplated using summoning a water spirit since they were so close to a river but he couldn't risk drowning his own soldiers. He had to let them burn until the orcs lay dead.

_How many orcs lie dead at my hand? How many more are there here?_ He ploughed his way through the hundreds of orcs, wielding his two swords with ferocity, rage fuelling his sword. The silvery blades were mere blurs in his hands as they sliced into foul orc flesh and ran through crude orc armour. Dark orc blood splattered his hand but he did not care. It was a blessing, like splashes of holy water to him. All that mattered was to kill any and all orcs who came into his sight. He did not know he was screaming. The pain from the scratch on his cheek and the large gashes on both sides were nothing, nothing. He had done far greater and far better damage than they did him.

In front of him, he spotted a bright white light. Acting on instinct, he hurtled toward it. Nimandir was there, holding an orb of light aloft and cutting down the orcs that were brave enough to approach her. Though they did not mind fire, orcs hated light and this was why they only attacked at night. The Nimohtars were all up and fighting bravely. The orcs were coming from the West so they must have been attacked first and had received the full brunt of the assault. He was amazed that they seemed least affected, even though a few bodies of their members lay on the ground.

Maltandir's caravan came into sight at last. It was completely destroyed and his abandoned horse was in a panic. The orcs were attempting to bring it down with ropes but Rochendil seemed to have possessed it since every orc that got close to it was kicked into the ground. But, still, he could not see Maltandir anywhere. He grappled briefly with a staff-wielding orc. In his fury, Hari's hands found the hated creature's head and twisted it around, breaking the thing's neck.

The noise was dying down now. Whether the orcs were retreating or the Akhohr were being defeated, it was impossible to tell. Some orcs fled at the sight of the battle-crazed Prince but were shot down by their own fellows. Deserting was not tolerated among orcs. That is, they shot the ones that Hari did not already slay. Hari no longer cared about pain.

He had forgotten pain. He had forgotten the Fanka Gang. He had almost forgotten himself. The bodies of his faithful soldiers served only to give him new rage, crazing him even further, and, now, he only saw orcs. The other fighting elves seemed to slip from his attention. All he wanted was to hear the orcs' anguished dying cries. All he wanted to see was their blood upon the ground and their bodies. All he wanted to do was eliminate every orc in the world. He threw himself at any orc he saw and killed them. Every kill was like a godsend, _Kill them! Kill them all! Spill their blood! Slay all of them! Exterminate them! Only let them die!_

* * *

Around him, even his own army was backing away. The Prince had gone berserk and his unconscious screaming harrowed all who heard it with fear. His hair was flying like a battle banner, his face contorted with such rage that no one would have ever thought could enter him and his eyes burned like fire that they almost glowed. His screaming was incoherent; sometimes it formed words like 'kill' and 'die' but nothing was clear. He never seemed to tire and every orc that he struck died in seconds. The orcs were now beginning to retreat, fleeing from the sight of the Prince. The retreat horn was sounded and the Akhohr held themselves back to let them pass, as was the etiquette of a soldier.

But the Prince cared nothing for etiquette. So strong was his bloodlust that he charged at their backs, attacking them from behind as they ran. The Akhohr stared in astonishment. Their cold, collected Prince had turned into a bloodthirsty destroyer, blindly murdering all orcs that came after him. None of them had the courage to go and try and stop him. The fear the orcs felt affected them too and they were worried that any who got in his way would be killed too. The Nimohtar came, two supporting Maltandir, who had lost an arm to the shock of those around.

Maltandir raised his head at the sound of the Prince's screaming and stared at the insane armoured figure. The Nimohtar too gazed horrified at the spectacle,

"_Let-let me go to him..._"

Luinandir, who was skilled at healing, turned to him and shook his head, "_No, Maltandir. You must rest in order to regenerate your arm by magic._"

"_Oh, that!_" With that, he screwed his eyes tight shut and, in the eyes of all around, the arm began to form from the shoulder, growing from where it had been severed. Luinandir goggled,

"_Maltandir! You must not do this! It will take months for you to replenish the power you use!_"

"_I care not!_" The arm was now elbow-length and his golden skin was paling slightly, "_The Prince shall never stop on his own. He shall continue to hunt and kill until he dies of exhaustion or is killed. Wounding him or knocking him out will do nothing._" The Akhohr stared at him. He was older than any other elf in Valivial and knew the Prince better than anyone they knew. It was silently but unanimously decided that he was the best person to calm the Prince. The hand formed and, as soon as the fingers had fully formed, it looked as though the sleeve had only been ripped off. Luinandir reluctantly stood aside and Maltandir ran as fast as he could towards the Prince, who was valiantly held back by four guards.

Panting slightly, Maltandir reached the Prince. Regenerating his arm had taken a lot of strength out of him but it was worth it. If it was to save the Prince, it was worth it, _I'll calm the Prince and then find Draco. Oh, how could I have let them escape with him?_ "_Release him, soldiers. You have done a good job of keeping him here._" He had to shout to make himself heard over the Prince's demented shrieking,

"_Maltandir, he will pursue the orcs again if we release him!_" The guard kept glancing sideways at his captor, who was fighting tooth and nail to break free. The swords had been dropped and his limbs flailed wildly to find a way out of the guards' hold,

"_I shall calm him. He shall not leave here, I promise you._" Maltandir knew only he could do it and others would not help matters. Reluctantly, the guards loosened their grip. The Prince fought himself away and would have ran away if Maltandir hadn't tackled him and managed to maintain a grip upon him, "_I have you, Your Majesty!_" Maltandir was immensely glad that regenerating his arm had left him strength enough to restrain the frenzied Prince.

"_**KILL THEM!**_" The Prince screamed, spit flying from his mouth, and clawing like a caged animal at Maltandir's fingers. Maltandir noticed that his fingers were bloody, _He was so crazed that he gripped the swords hard enough to make his hands bleed._ The Prince turned in his grip and attempted to fight Maltandir. He noticed that his eyes were filled with tears and his face was liberally streaked with them, "_**KILL THEM ALL! THEY MUST ALL DIE**_!"

"_It's alright, Your Majesty._" Maltandir did not raise his voice. He kept it soft and calming and he only gripped him hard enough to prevent him running away. Realising that it was no use to attack Maltandir, the Prince turned back to the path ahead and resumed trying to break away, "_It's alright. They've gone and, with your attacks, they will not come again. You have done quite enough for one night._" To keep talking was the best course of action. He could not do anything physically more than just restrain him, "_It has been a terrible night but going on a rampage will not make it any better. Hari, be calm._" When the Prince was a child, Maltandir would use his name rather than 'Your Majesty' when referring to him affectionately, "_For now, we are safe. We are not defeated but we cannot stoop to their level of killing everything we come across._"

It was working. The Prince's attempts at escape were becoming feebler and his cries were dying out, "_Hari, many people die in war. You have witnessed little of the destruction that takes place as a consequence. You are young, Hari. You have dealt death but do not know it. Only time and experience can teach you but you must not seek a path of destruction in response to it._" Hari had stopped screaming now. He was limp in Maltandir's arms and allowed himself to be laid face down on the ground. It took Maltandir a while to realise that he was crying, sobbing uncontrollably into the bloody grass,

"_It hurts..._" He whimpered, "_it hurts, Maltandir...Please, make it stop._"

"_Hari,_" Maltandir knew he wasn't referring to the wounds on his body, "_those hurts never truly heal but you must strengthen yourself against them so they will stop hurting you._"

"_It hurts..._" The Akhohr were nervously approaching, wary of any sudden outbursts from him, "_I can't stand it...Doesn't it hurt, Maltandir?...Doesn't it hurt?_"

"_I know._" Maltandir gently stroked Hari's once-sleek hair, which was now tangled and wet with blood, "_It is the way of war, I'm afraid. Every experienced soldier knows it and must learn from it._"

Hari sobbed into silence, his whole body shaking. Slowly, Maltandir unbuckled his armour and removed it from him. Several of the braver soldiers were gathered around him. Nimandir murmured sympathetically, "_He is just a boy._" Luinandir knelt beside the Prince when his armour had been removed and began to work on the injuries he had. Maltandir knew he would be too emotionally unstable at this point to lead the army, not for several days,

"_Everyone, I shall lead the army in the Prince's place while he is indisposed. Attend to the wounded and make a record of the dead._"

Slowly, the soldiers began to disperse. Now that the Prince was calm, his thoughts turned back to Draco. _If I leave the Prince in the care of the Nimohtar, I may be able to rescue Draco without him noticing._ Luinandir was busy healing the deep shoulder wound he had sustained, _He will be in safe hands with Luinandir._ Slowly (sudden movements would startle him), Maltandir raised himself, using his other arm rather than his new one. Then, under the pretence of going to reconstruct his caravan, he moved toward the edge of the camp. The sky was beginning to lighten overhead but clouds gathered. _Harivosl has not yet released us. He will make one more assault upon our land._

He had not gone a metre, however, when he felt something tug his cloak. Looking around, he saw the Prince standing shakily, clutching his cloak. He did not speak but his message was clear, "_You want me to stay with you?_" Luinandir put a hand upon the Prince's shoulder,

"_Maltandir needs to attend to his affairs, Your Majesty-_"

"_No, it's alright._" Maltandir felt that he should not deny the Prince's wish, not now he was so emotionally feeble. The Prince looked up and Maltandir had to bite down a gasp. The cold Prince he had become was gone and the child shone out from his eyes, pleading for sympathy. Maltandir smiled in a fatherly sort of fashion, "_Come on, then._" In a swift, startling movement, the Prince flung himself at Maltandir and wrapped him a tight hug. The fatherly instincts stirred within him and Maltandir embraced him back.

They stayed like this for several moments before, all of a sudden, Barandir, a new Nimohtar who had been with the scouts (because she was very jumpy and anxious), hurtled toward them. The Prince's head shot up, startled, but, before Maltandir could calm him, she began jabbering madly away, "_Maltandir! Maltandir, forgive me! I was cut off by orcs so I could not tell you sooner! Bandits came into the camp and they took a hostage!_"

"_Yes, I know!_" Maltandir wished she would not say it in front of the Prince, who was staring at her with rapt interest and then looking worriedly at Maltandir, "_Relax, Your Majesty. The hostage will be fine._"

"_Maltandir, it was the human! It was the Prince's servant!_" Maltandir could have struck her. _Does she not see the Prince?_ The Prince himself seemed to realise what she was saying. His eyes widened, his body tensed and he let out a gasp of horror,

"_It's alright. I shall send someone to - HARI_!"

For the Prince had broken out of Maltandir's affectionate arms and bolted away out of the camp, only stopping to pick up his sword.

* * *

Hari had been grief-stricken and frightened of being alone before but, as soon as he heard Draco mentioned, he came to himself once more. Draco sparked buried thoughts and he realised how long it must have been since he had met the Fanka Gang. _Oh, I should have looked into the cart! Draco, oh Draco, why are you here on this dreadful night?_

He heard Maltandir calling after him but he didn't care. He didn't care that he was clad only in a thin tunic and leggings, was barefoot and had only his sword. Saving Draco was the only thing that mattered. The flaming inferno of rage within him had been extinguished and replaced now by cold fear and panic. _I should have known Draco would try to find me! The fool; he should have stayed where I have told him to!_

He heard the Nimohtar pursuing him. _They shall only be a hindrance. Only I can save him. _Upon instinct, he veered suddenly into dense trees. He knew that he could lose Nimohtars but it would at least lengthen the gap between them. His sword became his ally and cut him a path through the trees, failing him only when he received another small scratch on his cheek.

Finally, he burst through the bushes and onto the edge of the marshes. The marshes were the submerged banks of a small river and a tavern was built on stilts in the centre of the river. Punts were moored on the other side that took patrons to and from the place. As he stood on the moist bank panting, he heard the unmistakable sound of Caradfanka laughing. The sound sparked the familiar hatred in him but this increased tenfold when he heard the words, "_Alright, you can have your way with him, Calenfanka_."

Calenfanka was the best known for sexual assaults. The punts were too far away for him to reach so, with the same instinct that made him veer from the path, he immersed himself into the marshes and began to swim through the deep river. He barely noticed the fish darting past him, startled by the sudden movement. He heard the Nimohtar behind him. _They will not pursue me through the river._

Finally, breathless and aching slightly, Hari pushed himself onto the terrace outside the tavern and flung the door open. The place went quiet immediately. The Prince stood panting in the doorway, dripping water onto the Warg-skin rug and clutching his shining sword (the water had done a good job of cleaning most of the blood away). Caradfanka let out a peal of laughter and swung himself off the bar,

"_Fancy seeing you here! Finished your little battle already?_"

The others joined in the laughter and Hari's blood began to boil again. He glanced around the place. A few people were cowering in the corner and the landlord was peering nervously over the bar. He spotted Draco on the floor, being straddled by Calenfanka. Thankfully, he was still fully clothed but unconscious. Blood trickled down his face from where he had been struck and he was bleeding from several shallow slashes. Calenfanka glanced around and saw Hari looking,

"_Oh, hello there. Like the look of this boy, too?_" He leered and stood, Draco limp in his arms, "_Sorry, but I'm not sharing. I tell you, he's so cute. Especially when he whimpers, 'My Prince, my Prince'-_"

Draco fell out of his arms...which fell with two soft thumps to the floor, cut clean off. Hari caught Draco in one arm and, just as Calenfanka turned to face him, slashed off his head. The green-scarved head flew into the arm and landed with a heavy thud on a table. No one was laughing now. The scarf slipped and his face was revealed, eyes staring and glassy and mouth open in surprise,

"_Lairion! The captain of the Hydana!_" A Water elf in the corner screamed and this was followed by others, all horrified at such a revelation.

Hari paid them no heed. He was possessed by a new rage. It was not the burning rage that he had felt in the camp but cold fury and the sense of purpose that preceded murder, "_Damn your souls._" He snarled, glaring at them all, his newly-bloodied sword held ready, "_You are lower than the orcs you aided. I shall slaughter each and every one of you._" His eyes burned again and the Fanka Gang began to reach for their weapons, fearful and wishing they had not angered him.

Caradfanka, however, gave a whoop, "_He finally did it! You're done for now! Y-_" He never got any further. Hari's sword went straight into the top of his head and cleaved him in half from head to foot. Blood splashed all over the tavern and the cowering people screamed even more. The Fanka Gang stared for a moment at their leader and then, as one, hurtled towards the door,

"_Run!_"

"_He'll kill us all!_"

* * *

"_Damn boats!_" Calenandir snarled at the punter, a scowling Wood Elf, "_Make them a bit bigger, why don't you?_"

Finally, all of the Nimohtar had made it across the water and Maltandir had insisted that everyone should be present before finding the Prince. Screams were coming from inside the pub and this made the others even more impatient. The door was on the other side of the punts but they hadn't taken two steps when a terrified Wood elf with a brown scarf around his head came into view,

"_No! No! Please, have mercy! I never touched your boy, I swear!_"

The Prince came around the corner. His sword was blood-soaked and his clothes were spattered with blood. His face was filled with cold wrath and Draco was held in his free arm. He was a frightening figure, even more frightening than when he had gone berserk. The sword raised and, before anyone could stop him, it had stabbed straight through the chest. This, however, seemed not enough. The sword twisted and shot up straight through the head, leaving a cleave from heart to head.

The horrified Nimohtar stared as the Prince gave the poor wretch an extra stab in one of the halves of his neck, "_I can only kill them once._" He said, in a low voice. Then, he dropped his sword and arranged Draco into both his arms,

"_H-Hari,_" Maltandir could barely believe his eyes. The Prince had killed an elf in an ally country when he seemed to have done nothing. He stepped bravely forward as the Prince advanced upon them, who stared straight ahead with the same cold fury in his face and seemed not to notice them, "_what have you done?_" He passed straight through the silent Nimohtar and boarded the punt Calenandir had taken. The poor Wood Elf's scowl had gone and he quaked with fear as Hari stood in the boat, still staring straight ahead of him.

Feeling it unwise to let the Prince out of his sight, he picked up the discarded sword and hurried aboard with him, "_Take us to the shore._" The punter nodded and pushed the little boat out. The Prince gave no sign that he knew Maltandir was there but stared into the distance, that terrible look still on his face.

The other Nimohtars stared after them for a moment and Nimandir breathed, "_What happened here?_" Barandir peered nervously around the corner and let out a small shriek. When the others looked around, they gave similiar noises of shock. Bodies of elves with scarves around their heads lay split in various places, all with expressions of horror or fright. A few heads bobbed in the water like grotesque buoys and the water was growing red with blood.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: Meleniel's finally had enough and will exact her anger on - guess who!


	10. The Madness Strikes

A/N: Well, it really hasn't been a good couple of days for me. One: I've got my AS results (those are exams you take after your sixth year of high school) and they are not good. Not only are they not good, they don't make sense either. I didn't do well on things I was confident with and I'm asking for a re-mark. Two: the Half Blood Prince film date has been put forward EIGHT WHOLE MONTHS! It was your reviews that kept me from completely blowing a fuse.

**evildictionaryninja: **He certainly has. Hari's in trouble, now.

**sweety-pie2712: **Okay, let me clear it up for you. Draco got kidnapped by the Fanka gang, a gang of renegade soldiers who conceal their identities with their scarves. No proof of their identities had been brought forward but Hari knows they're soldiers. That seem clearer?

**minoki: **Thanks very much.

**EngelCre: **Glad to have you back. Scary Hari is really awesome.

_**!!: **Certainly is._

**Crystal Malfoy: **Well, Hari won't get a punishment you'll expect!

**?: **Thanks. I was a bit worried that I didn't do it very well.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 10: The Madness Strikes**_

Never turning or saying a word, the Prince strode on toward the camp, seemingly deaf all Maltandir's words. The camp was fairly quiet and the tent of the dead was extended many times to accommodate the number of bodies. The wounded were being treated in the healing tent and more soldiers were on guard now. They seemed worried about a second wave.

The Prince walked past the staring soldiers without a backward glance. The look upon his face seemed to scare them into silence. Their news and messages were directed instead to Maltandir. The dead had been counted: they had lost nearly half of the Akhohr that made camp on the field, many were injured and about ten of the sixteen captains were dead. The orc corpses were being collected and burned. The smoke rising was visible over the trees and the smell was drifting over to them.

Maltandir stopped trying to receive an explanation from the Prince, for he would not respond. He only strode resolutely toward his tent with Draco in his arms. There was the faint sound of the Alqualond re-enforcements on the air. _They know not of the ambush. Their Queen shall be among them. _His thoughts returned to worry. _What will the Queen do when she finds out the Prince committed murder in her lands? What will the King and Queen of Valivial do, for that matter?_

Finally, they reached the restored royal tent. Thankfully, it had been extinguished before any real damage could have been dealt and many of the Prince's possessions seemed intact. Once within the tent, the Prince laid Draco upon his bed and stood over him in silence. Maltandir took this motionless silence as an opportunity to try and receive some response from him,

"_Your Majesty, what had that elf done to earn your wrath?_"

Nothing. A little impatience came into him,

"_You do realise, Your Majesty, that you have committed outright murder in a country that is our ally. Their armies come now with their Queen. What explanation can I give them for your actions?_"

Nothing. Maltandir sighed,

"_Your Majesty, will you not speak to me?_"

"_Who has done this?_" The sudden speech made Maltandir blink in surprise, "_Who brought Draco here? Who did this?_" He turned, the dark look intensifying, "_Who did this?_"

Thinking that honesty was the best course of action, Maltandir said, "_It was I, Your Majesty, and I humbly apologize for acting against your will._"

"_Apologize?_" Some of the mad wrath appeared in his eyes again, "_**Apologize?**__ Will your meagre apology revive those dead? Will your apology erase this?_" He jabbed a finger at Draco's wounds, "_This is your doing. This disaster would not have happened if you had not brought him!_"

"_Come, Your Majesty._" Maltandir thought this very unfair. Draco had nothing to do with the orc ambush, "_Your words are unreasonable. If I had not brought Draco, this would have happened nonetheless. The boy is blameless in this whole incident. Hari,_" He placed a hand upon the Prince's shoulder, "_this whole affair is a great upset but you must not make irrational claims. The blame is upon no one._"

The Prince looked up and fixed him with a long hard glare, "_You know nothing. Those rats deserved the death I gave them. They were lower than the orcs they aided. Yea, the orcs that ambushed us were given information by them! Do not say that everyone is blameless! You know nothing; Maltandir, you may be! If it were not for you,_" He added, his voice rising, "_and your negligent watch over him, they would not have aided the orcs!_"

"_They captured Draco, I know._" Maltandir nodded, knowing that anger in return would be no use against the Prince "_I did watch over him and lost my arm to do it. I regret allowing his capture but, if they are as loathsome as you say, they would have aided the orcs nonetheless._"

"_**You know nothing!**_" repeated the Prince. His hands curled into fists and his voice rose to a shout, "_**You, Maltandir, I know that you have caused this! You brought Draco here against my will and you see why I desired him to stay at Ariador!**_"

"_Are you worried about him?_" Maltandir asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from blame, "_Did you confine him to protect him?_"

"_What?_" The Prince glared at him, as though he had said something very offensive. Maltandir was thankful that he had ceased shouting, "_Do you think I care for the boy? He is nothing but a trouble to me! He is naught but a foolish, reckless human! I should have known better than to employ him._" He glared at Maltandir, as though it had been he who had recommended Draco's employment,

"_It was your decision, Your Majesty._" Maltandir reminded him, "_And, I do think that you are not truthful when you say that you care nothing for him._" The flinch from the Prince was all he needed to know that he was right, "_From Leonas, Arawen and Marilla-_"

"_DO NOT UTTER THAT NAME IN MY PRESENCE!_" The Prince bellowed, actually making Maltandir jump, "_SHE IS NOT MARILLA! SHE IS NAUGHT BUT A DROW SPY! NOW, BE SILENT!_"

"_I believe,_" Maltandir pursued, "_that she so angers you because she ordered Draco to be whipped. Yes, I know all about that. Draco told me all during the journey here._" The Prince said nothing but crossed over to Draco and proceeded to glare into the boy's face, "_He told me a great deal and I am surprised at your behaviour towards him. You have treated with all unjust and partial mannerisms. You focus upon his failings and not his success. One would think you disliked him for his race._" There was no answer but his hands were still fists, "_He respects you, Hari. He has a great deal of respect for you._"

"_Would he demonstrate it,_" The Prince growled, "_by giving me proper obedience and no bother that is due of a servant. Silence!_" He snapped, as Maltandir opened his mouth again, "_Am I not your Prince? Dare you defy me?_"

"_He loves you._" Maltandir knew it was pointless to hide it, "_He did not admit it to I but I know that the love he bares for you is greater than simple respect. And,_" He added, bravely, "_I have reason to know that you love him._"

The reaction was swift. The Prince whirled around and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, "_What do you know of it? NOTHING!_" A fist retracted and flew straight into Maltandir's face. Staggering, Maltandir knocked into a charred table and both toppled to the floor. This was completely unexpected; the Prince would shout, fly into a rage and become unreasonable but he had never struck a close friend.

The madness the Prince had shown fighting the orcs seemed to rekindle and he flung himself at the other. Maltandir was pinned, horrified, to the floor by the Prince's weight and hailed with blows to every part of his body that the Prince could reach, "_Say it! __**Say it! **__CONFESS YOUR GUILT IN THIS TRAGEDY OR I SHALL BEAT YOU TO YOUR DEATH!_"

The tent flap flew open and Captain Florial hurried inside. Seeing what was going on, she gasped and immediately pulled the Prince away, "_Your Majesty, contain yourself!_"

"_HE IS AT FAULT IN THIS!_" bellowed the Prince, struggling in her grip, "_HE HAS BETRAYED US! ARREST HIM! CONFINE HIM TO THE RANKEST DUNGEON! SENTENCE HIM TO THE WORST DEATH!_"

Being older than the other captains and knowing some of the Prince's moods, Florial knew better than to believe him, "_Your Majesty, please!_"

"_Hari,_" Despite being bruised and battered by the Prince's blows, Maltandir could stand and he glared at the Prince with authority. He had caught Draco's eye as the boy opened one a little. _The Prince must not meet with him. Not now. His fury shall destroy Draco_, "_you are raving. If you do not cease, I am sure that Captain Florial and all of our soldiers shall assist me in doing you a great service by subduing and binding you until you come to your senses._"

"_WILL NO ONE SILENCE THAT VILLAIN?_" bellowed the Prince. With that, he broke free of Captain Florial and stormed out of the tent.

* * *

Draco lay with his eyes closed. He didn't dare open them. Voices around him were shouting in Elvish and he recognised them as Maltandir and his Prince. _He knows I'm here._ Cold dread came into him as he heard His voice right above him. _Now, you've gone and done it, Draco._ He told himself, _Now, He'll be really angry with you and He'll send you back home for sure._

There was a commotion and Draco dared a small peak. What he saw astonished him; his Prince was being restrained by a female soldier and Maltandir getting to his feet. He looked as though he had been beaten very badly. His lip was bleeding and his eye was blackened. What was even more astonished was that his arm was back. _I could have sworn I'd seen one of those bandits chop it off._

There was more talk and then, his Prince stormed from the tent in a towering rage that Draco could almost feel in the air. Maltandir watched Him go and then, turned to Draco, "Draco, how are you?"

"Fine." It was only then did he realise that all of the cuts he had sustained had vanished, "Yeah, great." He could also sit up without trouble, "What's the matter? Why was the Prince so angry?"

Maltandir's face darkened and he sat down by Draco's side, "It has been a dark night for Valivial. Orcs ambushed us and killed half of the Akhohr." Draco gaped. He knew what the Akhohr was and it amazed him to think that half of those noble-looking warriors that had left Ariador were now gone, "What is worse, the Prince has murdered a whole gang of bandits upon Alqualond soil. It will cause great trouble between the countries, I can tell you."

"He..._killed_ them?" Draco's mouth hung open,

"Yes."

The tent flap opened and a small elf dressed in silver with a coil of white hair (despite her looking young) entered. She looked troubled. She spoke a few words in Elvish and Draco definitely picked out 'Maltandir' from the words she spoke. Her voice was very sweet, despite the worried tinge to it. Maltandir answered solemnly and then, made a gesture to Draco while facing her. He guessed that Maltandir was introducing him to her,

"Hello, Draco." She said, in broken English. Her voice sounded just as sweet when speaking in English too, "I Celemarin, leader of Alqualond Nimohtar."

"Nice to meet you." Draco inclined his head politely, not knowing what else to do. This seemed to suffice for Celemarin smiled and said,

"You are servant of Prince, yes?"

"I am." Draco nodded,

"Is Prince here?"

"No, he's just left."

"I come here and I see destruction. Something is wrong, yes?"

"Draco," Maltandir interrupted from the other side of the tent, crossing the room with an armful of clothes, "the Prince might want these. Could you go and find him, please?"  
Feeling it would be better to talk to Celemarin, Draco swung himself off his bed and took the clothes. He inclined his head again to Celemarin and left the tent. Instinctively, he looked left and right but there was no sign of him. His misgivings increased; his Prince's fury would surely be directed at him and he did not like having to meet him alone.

Nevertheless, he hurried around the camp, looking for Him. It took him about fifteen minutes to search the whole camp and he realised just how many Valivial soldiers had been lost since there were many more soldiers with silver cloaks (Draco guessed that they were Alqualond soldiers) than ones with golden ones. In addition, he saw that the tent of the dead (he guessed this from the black owl upon it he had seen on the tombs in Numeranor) was about fifty feet long or more. There was the smell of burning flesh which made Draco wrinkle his nose. _What on earth is that?_

"Are you lost?"

The question came from behind him when he was looking at the smoke rising above the trees. He jumped and looked round. Behind him was a tall elf with white-blonde hair plaited and wrapped into a bun on top of her head. Her pale skin shone in the sun and so did her golden tiara and long, floaty blue dress. In fact, she looked so like Draco's mother than he staggered a little. However, the smile and little chuckle gave her away; his mother never laughed at something like that,

"Does my appearance surprise you?" Her voice was surprisingly deep. Draco had expected a sweet voice like Calamari's,

"Erm, yes. A bit. You...you like a bit like...like my mother..." Draco ended this sentence staring at the ground, his cheeks flushing. It had been the first time he had thought of his mother in over two months. The elf gently took hold of his face and made him look up at her. She was smiling sympathetically,

"Do you miss her? You must have been here a long time."

Draco couldn't answer truthfully so he settled for a noncommittal, "Hmm." The elf released his face and looked at the long death tent,

"It looks awful. To think that such a thing could have happened to the Valivial army, that Prince Hari could have failed them." Draco thought this a little unfair but didn't say anything. He knew better than to contradict elves, "Well," She too seemed to rethink her statement, "perhaps he did not. I do tend to blame those in authority for mistakes."  
"Have you seen the Prince at all?" Draco asked. Some of the impatience he had gained while searching rose, "Maltandir sent me to find him."

"Yes. About twenty minutes ago. He went into the trees over there without saying a word to me. He looked quite upset, though." She pointed to a clump of dense oak trees,

"Thank you." Draco hurried off into them and glanced around. Valivial was a dangerous place to walk alone, Draco had long learned this, and wished that Maltandir could have accompanied him. Or the elf he had just met. Clasping the clothes Maltandir had given him to his chest, he hurried through the trees until he found a path. Instinctively, he strode along it. Paths were safer than woodland; there was less chance of getting lost.

He had not gone twenty paces when he heard the sound of running water. It was loud, louder than a river. _A waterfall._ He was about to move on when something shiny caught his eye. _The river can't be that close, surely._ He glanced around. It wasn't water but something silver nonetheless was settled in the grass verge by the path. Cautiously, he approached it. It was something thin and round.

He gave a small gasp. It was his Prince's circlet. Slowly, he bent down to pick it up. It was cold and beautiful in Draco's hands. _Just like my Prince. _He looked around, _Perhaps he is by this waterfall. _He moved cautiously down the slope, checking his footing before making a move. The slope was steep and the ground was slippery with melted frost. The trees were still bare but there were the telltale precursors of spring about them.

The sound of water was closer now. The trees were thinning out and bushes had to navigated around. Rocks were appearing, becoming steadily wetter with spray. Draco peered out from behind a tree and saw a waterfall, twice the size of him, flowing into a deep pool beneath. In the pool was...Draco gasped. It became airless again. It had to be a god. Nothing else could be so beautiful. Except...

It was, for certain, his Prince. Naked and gleaming in the newly risen sun. His hair had a new sparkle to it, looking more than ever like stars had been captured in its strands. The water came up to His waist and He had His back to Draco. His skin was pale and it too glittered with little drops of water. On the stony bank lay His discarded clothes, all in a heap and blood-stained.

Draco retreated a little behind the tree. He longed to gaze at this beauty forever but his Prince would be furious if He knew he was being watched while He was bathing. Least of all, by Draco. The boy wondered whether he could just leave the clothes and go before his Prince caught him. But, if He were look around...Biting his lip, he looked around again. His Prince was wading towards the waterfall now, away from Draco. Now, if any, was the time to do it without attracting attention.

Quietly as he could, he dodged around the bush and strode over the larger stones that wouldn't clatter at his feet. His Prince was sticking his head in the flow of water and squeezing his hair as though trying to wash something out. Draco reached the large, dry flat stone where His clothes had been discarded and placed the slightly wrinkled new ones beside them along with the crown. Another glance at Him told him that he hadn't been seen. He gave an inward sigh of relief, _So far, so good._

He retreated across the stones, thinking that, at last, he had some luck. But the stones seemed to double in precariousness and became twice as wet. He slipped and with a involuntary cry of surprise, he slid straight into the water. It was surprisingly deep and went up to above Draco's waist. His head was momentarily submerged and it took him about a second to realise he had to get back to the surface. He straightened and panted, wringing wet in the water.

He realised that his Prince could not have failed to see him now, "Sorry, Your Majesty! I was just giving you-" He looked around. He wasn't there. He had just disappeared, "Your Majesty?" Thinking he had probably fled in surprise, Draco was at least thankful that he had not seen too much, "Sorry." He said again, to the silence and climbed out, hoping that his burning face would help him to get dry quicker.

By the time he returned to Maltandir's tent (which was thankfully near the borders of the camp), he was about half-dry. Since most of the journey was uphill, it took longer and the new wind was a great help. Still, he was not dry enough for Maltandir not to notice, "Draco, what happened to you?"

"I...er, fell in the river." Draco's face flushed again. Maltandir did him a great unkindness in not being alone when he returned. He was with Celemarin, many other female Nimohtars and the blonde woman with the golden tiara he had met before going into the trees. The woman gave another little chuckle,

"Where? At the waterfall?"

"Yes." He did not meet her eye,

"Was the Prince there?" Maltandir asked,

"Yes. He was...bathing..." It was humiliating to say it. Everyone seemed to surmise what had happened but they were polite enough not to question any further. Instead, Celemarin asked,

"You captured by bandits, yes?"

"Yes." Draco nodded, grateful to get away from the subject,

"You taken to tavern on island, yes?"

"Yes, I was." _It's just from one bad subject to another, _He thought, bitterly,

"You no see faces, yes?"

"No, I didn't see their faces. They were covered." He sat down awkwardly on the stool Maltandir provided. Again, he felt like he was on stage. All of the elves present were looking straight at him, as though trying to stare him out. The blonde woman spoke again,

"It will take a day at least to identify their bodies. Even if they were criminals, committing murder on ally land is a serious crime. My lands have long been allies with Valivial and this event comes as a great shock to me. I must know everything."

During the conversation, Draco found out the woman was actually the Queen of Alqualond but she forgave him for not bowing immediately. She was more lenient than his Prince but not as kind as the Queen. His Prince never returned during the conversation and it was nearly an hour before a messenger interrupted them to inform the room that He had already left for Ariador and required Maltandir to take Draco separately,

"Pleasure to meet you, Draco." Celemarin inclined her head, smiling,

"Likewise, Draco." Queen Mirima held out her hand for him to kiss. When all had said farewell, Maltandir took him out of the royal tent and led him to his restored caravan. It was then that Maltandir showed weariness. He slumped against the canvas once the horse had got going,

"What a night! Half of the Akhohr lost! Half in one stroke!"

"I'm sorry, Maltandir." Draco said, staring at his knees, "I shouldn't have gone."

"Oh, don't blame yourself, Draco." Maltandir waved a hand, dismissively, "The fault is mine." He saw Draco's face and added, "Do you fear for the Prince's anger?"

"Yes." Draco felt it pointless to lie, "He'll send me back to my world for sure now." His insides squirmed at the prospect. Having to be confined to Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts and never seeing his Prince again. He'd never see King Jaurion, Queen Lindilwen, Arawen, Leonas, Marilla, Maltandir - the list went on of the people he had met and tears prickled in his eyes. He remembered little now of the human world. What he did remember felt dull and pointless compared to the bright and beautiful life of Valivial. He did not want to return to the life he had before. He longed to remain in Valivial with his Prince,

"Perhaps he will and perhaps he will not." Maltandir stood up and sat beside him, "I know, however, that you will not be without defence if the Prince _does _decide to send you away. There are many who have great respect for you and will not stand by if the Prince rejects you. Leonas, Marilla and Arawen, just to name a few."

Draco chose only to nod. Those three may be his friends but would they be enough to overthrow Him?

"The King and Queen, also, like you." This made Draco look up, "They told me. The Queen especially finds you quite charming." He couldn't help but feel a bit better. A warm feeling glimmered within him at the thought of the Queen's opinion. He was surprised by the King, though. He had hardly ever encountered him but, at least, he seemed warmer than his Prince, "The King is very fair." Maltandir went on, "He shall give you a fair hearing if it comes to it."

Maltandir spent most of the journey in the same vein, encouraging Draco that the Prince might not send him away, what to say when he met Him and, if He did, then there were those who would back him up. He also mentioned that, if he was thrown out of Ariador, he would gladly take Draco on as a Nimohtar if he wanted. They reached Ariador in what felt like less time than the journey away from it had taken. Maltandir stepped down first and helped Draco out. A neigh from across the courtyard alerted them to the presence of Helin and His coach. _He's here already._

The doors of the palace were open and a few people around in the courtyard were talking in tense whispers. They glanced at Draco and then, went back to whispering. Draco's heart sank. Had He already told everyone what happened?

"DRACO!"

He whipped round just in time to see three elves hurtling towards him. In an instant, he was almost knocked over by Arawen. She gripped him with abnormal strength. _Must be those climbing muscles, _"Draco! Oh, Draco, we were so worried!"

"Easy, Arawen." Leonas' voices came from somewhere to his left. Arawen reluctantly released him and Draco noticed with a jolt that her face was streaked with tears. Marilla came into view. She too was crying but she looked more upset than her sister,

"Oh, Draco, do not ever do that again! We were so scared!" She too embraced him, a little less hard than Arawen. She also did something very unexpected and kissed him on the cheek. It was then that Draco spotted with another jolt that the King and Queen were hurrying towards him. Marilla released him once they were close. Both of them were white-faced,

"Your Highnesses," Draco bowed, "please forgive my absence."

"Oh, never mind about that." The King waved a hand, speaking rather sharply, "What's happened? The Prince came about an hour ago. Was the battle not meant to take place at dawn?"

"Do not hassle Draco!" The Queen scolded, "Draco, what happened to you?"

"I'll tell you in a moment." Maltandir interrupted, coming out of nowhere from Draco's right, "Did the Prince say anything?"

"Nothing," The Queen looked a little puzzled, "except that, when Draco returned, he was to meet him in the servants' quarters. Oh, Verimir, he looked terrible! Has something dreadful happened?"

"Go on, Draco." Maltandir gave him a little push towards the doors, "You'd better go and get it over with. Remember, just tell him the truth."

Wishing more than ever that he could stay with the King and Queen, he strode towards the doors. He was glad of the many staircases now; this gave him time to structure an apology for Him. Elves passed him in the corridor but many actually pulled him aside to talk to him. They always asked him things along the lines of,

"What has happened?"

"Where is my brother? He left with the Akhohr?"

"My mother, is she alive?"

Draco could not answer any of them. He had not the heart to answer truthfully. So, he always answered, "There has been a battle. The Akhohr are at the camp." This was normally enough to let him go but others were more insistent and demanded more details. When this happened, he had to tell them that his Prince was expecting him and couldn't stay to talk.

Again, he arrived at his destination sooner than he thought he would. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the servants' quarters at Rhunithil. He took a deep breath. All advice Maltandir had given him rose to the surface but did not comfort him.

Slowly, he opened the door which thankfully stayed silent and down the corridor towards his room, which was at the very end. The floorboards too remained silent. Perhaps, they were scared of Him too. Leonas' and Arawen's doors were open, baring the fine comfort expressing their masters' respect for them. Something he would never know. He raised a shaking hand and knocked twice,

"Enter." His Prince's voice was not sharp but it was not gentle either.

Draco pushed the door open, with the same trepidation he would associate with ascending the gallows, and entered the room. His Prince was wearing the clothes Draco had brought him and he was standing in front of the closed window, blocking some of the morning light. His face was terrifying, full of cold fury. To his horror, Draco spotted all of the trinkets he had been given laid on his bed, all in an unceremonious jumble. The statue of Meleniel lay on top of all this, glinting guiltily in the sunlight,

"Good morning, M-my Prince." Draco tried not to sound frightened but the shake in his voice gave him away,

"There is nothing good to come of this morning." He replied, coldly, making Draco's spirits sink. He was not raising his voice but it was only the quiet before the storm. After turning away toward the window, he glanced back, "Tell me, Draco. Are you deaf?"

"No, Sire."

"Are you dumb?"

"No. Sire."

It happened in a flash. His Prince whirled around, hair flying, and glared at him, voice rising to a terrible shout, "THEN, HOW **DARE **YOU DISOBEY ME, AGAIN?"

"I-I'm sorry, Sire," Draco stuttered, shaken anew by His staggering wrath, "I d-did not mean to cause any-any trouble-"

"DID NOT MEAN TO?" He grabbed Draco by the scruff of the neck, planting a worry that He would strangle him into his mind, "WILL YOUR INTENTIONS ERASE YOUR PAST CRIMES? DO YOU THINK THAT, BECAUSE YOU DID NOT WILLINGLY GIVE ME TROUBLE, YOU WILL HAVE MY FORGIVENESS?"

"Please, Sire!" Tears were prickling his eyes again. He hardly knew what he was saying, now, but he had to say something, anything, to stop Him shouting, "I am your most devoted servant! I will follow you to the ends of the earth!"

"I CARE NOT!" His Prince thundered, "I CARE NOT OF WHETHER YOU WILL FOLLOW ME! I CARE OF WHETHER YOU WILL GIVE ME GOOD SERVICE! OH, WHAT A FOOL I WAS TO EVER CONSIDER YOUR EMPLOYMENT! ALL YOU HAVE DONE IS MAKE NEW PROBLEMS AND I HAVE TO SAVE YOU EVERY TIME SINCE NO ONE ELSE WILL!"

Their eyes made contact. Draco saw burning anger in them but, above all, he saw pain. He was upset, greatly upset by what had happened. _Of course, _he thought, forgetting his fear for a moment, _he was the leader of the Akhohr. He must feel like he's let them down. Maybe he blames himself._ Acting upon impulse, and very foolishly, he took hold of His shoulders and moved into him. His Prince's body was warm and had a wonderful scent but Draco could only enjoy it for a split second.

Out of nowhere, the back of His hand descended with lightening speed upon Draco's left cheek with such force that he was thrown to the floor. Tears stabbed more insistently at his eyes, not only because of the pain, "I AM NOT YOUR SAVIOUR!" He bellowed, "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME! DO NOT THINK THAT I AM GLAD OF SAVING YOU! FOUR TIMES I HAVE SNATCHED YOU FROM DOOM AND ALL FOR THIS!"

"F-forgive me, S-sire." Draco's voice shook with tears and his face crumpled pathetically. Then, he realised something, "I-it was you, Sire? Y-you saved me from-from the Drows?"

"And, would I have left you at their mercy!" He snapped. He was no longer shouting but his rage made the air tense. He whirled around and turned to the pile of objects. Draco's heart sank as he began to pick up random things, "Captured water from the falls of Tarion, a replica stone of Ramwe, a Pennand compass; treasures to fill a Nimohtar's pocket!" He threw the thing down and turned to the statue. Draco remembered that it had been stolen and a new dread came into him, "And this! A stolen statue from a false god!"

In a sudden burst of anger, he gripped the statue and flung in against the wall. The finely carved statue hit the stone and shattered into a thousand pieces. Draco gave a cry as though it had been he that was smashed. His Prince swooped down upon him and dragged him from the room, now screaming insults at him, "YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A WITLESS, STUMBLING MORTAL! EMPLOYING YOU WAS THE WORST DECISION I EVER MADE!" and other things Draco did not want to remember.

He was dragged along the junction of bridges between towers and into a terribly familiar corridor, "NEVER AGAIN SHALL YOU BLIGHT ME WITH YOUR PRESENCE! HERE, YOU SHALL ROT!" With that, He slammed the door of the bridge, leaving Draco in the white and gold halls of Numeranor. Draco had no power to shout after him. He could not even stand. All he could do was collapse in the corridor and weep into the marble.

* * *

Blood pounded in his ears all the way back to Rhunithil. Rage burned again within him and he cared not for the stares he received. All Hari wanted to do was punish him, punish the boy for being the cause of all this. He marched straight back to the boy's room and slammed the door behind him. The treasures he had found concealed within it glared maddeningly at him. _He has horded these without my consent! He had kept them behind my back! They must be destroyed!_

One by one, he seized each terrible item and threw it against the wall. The crashing and tinkle of them breaking was music to his ears. Every map was ripped to pieces and every artifact was smashed or broken until the floor was coated with their shards. It wasn't enough. His rage was not yet sated. In his now blind rage, he seized the sheets and tore them. Feathers from the mattress and pillows floated in the air, mocking him.

Finally, with a splintering of wood, the door broke and left Hari panting in the middle of the wreckage. His rage was dying down now. The silence seemed to calm it. But it was not silent for long. It was quiet at first and grew louder and louder. It was the sound of someone crying and not just anyone. He knew who it was. It was Draco, sobbing in pain and anguish,

_What have I done?_ Hari's eyes widened at his own doing, _I have hurt that which I love! I have grieved him and even struck him! Oh, Draco, do not weep so._ Tears of guilt began to prick his eyes and the crying echoed in his head. One thing fixed itself in his brain, _Get back to Draco. Release him and love him. Redeem yourself for having damaged him so._ He turned but stopped dead.

A glowing figure towered over him and he had to duck to avoid the angry white dove that dive-bombed him. Meleniel stood before him, her face contorted with rage, her eyes like fire, "_You disgust me. You have broken countless innocent hearts and have caused misery even to the one you love._"

Fear shot through Hari. He fell to his knees before her, "_Forgive me, Meleniel. I am justly regretful of my own misdeeds. I shall make amends now._"

"_No!_" The dove dived at him again, halting his progress to the broken door, "_You shall not see him until you have paid in suffering for all that which you caused. I would have released you to him had you not so callously denied my presence!_" She jabbed a finger at him, "_I lay upon you my most grievous curse of madness that you will hear the cries of those you have injured!_"

* * *

A/N: Hari's really done it now. Those of you who don't like him will love this story from now on.


	11. Morendil

A/N: It's funny but, when Hari's being a jerk, you hate him and yet, when I give him a hard time, you all feel sorry for him.

**sweety-pie2712: **Ah, good things come to those who wait. There's a bit longer to go until Draco and Hari get together.

**TheGodMachine: **Well, the wait is over. Hope I don't disappoint.

**evildictionaryninja: **It sure is. The King and Queen have another part to play in this, mark my words!

**EngelCre: **Great. That's the sign of a good author, surprising her readers. Hari certainly is not the most sane person you'll meet, I agree.

**minoki: **Draco certainly does a hard time. Y'know, I always give Draco a hard time in my stories. And I call myself a Draco fan!

**emeraud.silver: **I wish he didn't too.

Don't forget, after you read this, to vote on my poll. Your votes decide whether I should continue this story or Power of the Moon.

Read on, for a question that I asked before shall, at last, be answered!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 11: Morendil**_

Draco's grief stabbed at his heart like a thousand knives. This was worse than being dismissed from His service. _He hates me,_ This fact echoed in his head, spurring the endless tears on, _He hates me. I've done nothing for him, nothing. Unless you count all the trouble I caused. I've failed him. I'm an utter failure to him and the rest of the world. How could I have thought I would be any good?_

He howled to the floor, weeping to the bones of His ancestors. The sun filtered through the windows and warmed the marble he lay upon. Draco had no power to move. All he could do was cry, "Why?" He wept. This word echoed around the place, "...why...why...why..."

"Why did I have to come here? Why? Why?"

He kept repeated things like this over and over again. It was difficult to tell whether it was an echo or his actual voice. However hard he cried, the anguish never ceased. All the time, his Prince's angry face and his insults burst in front of him, making the tears flow even more. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. It was all darkness despite the lightening sky. There was no one to turn to. No one came to comfort him. Arawen, Leonas, Marilla and all others were many miles below, too far away to hear him.

All energy he had left was used for crying. Draco became weary and, presently, his anguish lessened, _Perhaps it's better,_ he thought, as he lay on the warm floor, _if I die here. Then, I cannot make any more trouble for my Prince. Yes, it's the only way._ He looked out at the rising sun, _Only through my death can I stay here. Will it be quicker if I jump from the window? My only wish will be that my spirit should stay beside my Prince...and I will be with him forever, even if he doesn't know it..._

A few more tears seeped through his eyelashes and he fell asleep.

He had been asleep for perhaps a few moments. When he woke up, the sun was still around the same place it was before. He was stiff and hunger began to pain him. Groaning slightly, he rolled over, _How did it come to this? How did I get this far?_ The ceiling's rafters were carved with leaves and little figures which stared down upon him with unblinking eyes. That didn't bother him.

What did was the light. Was it his imagination or was the once golden light now an ethereal blue? _I'm hallucinating already._ He rubbed his eyes furiously and looked again. The blue light was still there. He looked out of the golden-rimmed windows and saw that the sun had turned bright powder blue. The sky seemed darker than before. _Is it night, already? Do they have more blue moons in this place? _This strange sight distracted him from his grief and he stared out at the land. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The new leaves rippled in the wind more slowly and those that came loose seemed to take double the time to dance in the air. _What's going on? Is it just me?_ He rubbed his eyes again but nothing changed.

A puzzled silence followed, broken only by approaching footsteps. It took Draco a while to really realise but someone was coming. He looked instinctively towards the door before realising that the footsteps were coming from the stairs leading up to the steps. _Leonas, he must be up here._ It took him another long while to realise that Leonas was downstairs and couldn't be up there.

As he realised this, the figure came around the corner and Draco gave a cry of amazement. An armoured elf with a spear came towards him and Draco recognised him as the Guard of the Gate. _But, he's a statue! Oh, damn, I really am seeing things._ Draco turned back to the window, _It's not there. _After a moment, a voice came from his right,

"Hello, Draco." Confused, he turned again. The Guard of the Gate was still standing there and then, it smiled, "Do you not believe your senses?"

"I-I haven't been sleeping much lately." This was true. He hadn't slept very well before the battle and he had only been asleep a few hours before his capture, "You're just a figment of my imagination. Now, just leave me alone. I'll join you sooner or later."

"What are you talking about?" The Guard frowned, putting his head to the side, "Sorry," He added, a small blush appearing in his face, "I never paid attention at school. Fighting was all I was really good for."

"I mean," Draco sighed, sitting down against the wall, "that I'll die soon."

The Guard made a face, "You look well enough to me. You cannot mean you wish to take your own life?"

"If it'll make it any quicker then, yes." The tears were beginning to start again. The Guard took a firm hold of his shoulder, shaking Draco's assumption that he was seeing things,

"No, Draco. Do not kill yourself. Don't make the same mistake I did."

"What?" Draco looked around, inquisitiveness taking over,

"I fell on my sword during a battle." He explained, looking out on the land, "When I was alive, I was a guard of the camp and Drows stormed it. I thought the day was lost so I fell on my sword. Turned out that we beat them back so they buried me here so I can make up for my cowardice." He looked as though he thought that he deserved this, "Which goes to show that you can't be too hasty with these things."

"Well, I know that I deserve to die." Draco put his head on his knees to stop the ghost-or-whatever-it-was seeing his tears, "I've caused so much trouble for my Prince. I don't have a reason to live now that I've displeased him."

The Guard seemed unsure of what to do. After a moment, he pulled Draco to his feet, "Come on. The Kings and Queens want to meet you." He guided a bewildered Draco up the steps to the tombs, "Sorry I scared you, by the way." He added, on the way there, "When you first came here. I'm a useless soldier, actually." He added, "I have no idea why they put me, here. I've never made that face in my life."

"Or death?"

"No. Or death."

They came out into the tombs and Draco gave another gasp of shock. The plinths were the statues stood were now empty. All the statues seemed to have come to life and were milling around the place, some in groups and some in pairs. As soon as they saw Draco, they all looked around and a veiled Queen strode to him first, "Hello, Draco." She had a breathy voice which was so quiet that he could barely hear it, "I am Queen Undire, the great-great grandmother of Queen Lindilwen. I am terribly sorry for the behaviour my great-great-great grandson. I saw him as you entered. I cannot tell you how disgusted I am at how he treated you."

"I would have whipped him if he was my son!" Gadweal the Second said from the wall. The Drow head lay discarded on the plinth but there was no mistaking him,

"Terrible, terrible." said another King that Draco did not know but with an extravagant and very heavy-looking circlet on his head, "To do something like that to a good servant."

"I'm not that good." Draco didn't like the way they talked. It sounded like his Prince was in the wrong, "I've caused too much trouble."

"You're a human!" Gadweal the Second stood and actually clapped him on the back, "How can you cause trouble?"

"I think we would all like to know that." A strangely rugged King, smoking a pipe, spoke from the front, "Do tell of your sorrows, Draco."

Thankful for an excuse to put them in the right, Draco sat down on the Guard of the Gate's plinth and told the ghosts-or-whatever-they-were all about the offences he had committed. Strangely, they still seemed to think that he had been wronged. No matter how much he told and retold them, he could not convince him that he was the criminal.

* * *

The royal carriage clattered in the courtyard of Ariador. The horses' hooves were loud and sent the grey Helin running back to her stable. Maltandir watched it approach and recognised the Alqualond crest on the door. _I thought that Mirima would come._ _These troubled times give us no mercy. I shall have to give my explanation before I leave._

The door was flung open and, sure enough, Queen Mirima strode out. She looked completely furious and Maltandir could not think why. _Has the Prince committed something worse?_ Celemarin came in after her and caught sight of him first,

"_Maltandir! Forgive us for this unannounced visit but Her Majesty was so insistent._"

"_Where is he?_" The Queen growled, "_Where is your Prince?_"

Before Maltandir could answer, King Jaurion and Queen Lindilwen came into view in the entrance hall. Regardless of their faces, Mirima turned on them and strode towards them, "_What is the meaning of this, Jaurion?_"

"_Why, what is the problem, Mirima?_" Jaurion asked, confused,

"_Your son! He has slaughtered many of my best soldiers!_"

"_WHAT?_" Jaurion jumped, actually jumped, and Lindilwen clapped her hands to her mouth. Maltandir too stared in shock,

"_Yes, he has killed near the field of the orc ambush in the tavern on the river._"

"_I thought them bandits._" Maltandir said, without really meaning to, "_They covered their heads with scarves._"

"_That is the very worst of it._" Celemarin said, her face saddening, "_They had deceived us. They were the Fanka Gang, a notorious gang of murdering thieves._"

"_Hari knew this._" Maltandir muttered, remembering what the Prince had said at the camp, "_He said 'Those rats deserved the death I gave them.'_"

"_He knew it?_" Mirima rounded on him, "_Why did neither of you mention it to me? They are my citizans after all and it is my duty to punish them myself according to our laws. Now, where is he?_" She almost shouted the last statement. Jaurion and Lindilwen flinched and Lindilwen's face crumpled,

"_He is lost!_" She wailed, burying her face in her hands, "_He is missing!_" Her _Nienna_ put an arm around her to comfort her and Celemarin too gave an apologetic bow,

"_I do beg your pardon, My Lady. We did not know of this._"

"_What about Draco?_" Mirima asked, suddenly concerned. Maltandir was quite used to this sudden change of emotion from her; this was quite natural,

"_What makes you turn your mind to him?_" Maltandir asked, not knowing why Mirima was concerned for him,

"_He is a very charming boy. I met him at the camp after the orc ambush and he said I looked like his mother._" A little blush appeared on her cheeks. Making a mental note to check this, Maltandir took a deep breath and said,

"_We know not what happened but, on the day the Prince returned, Arawen found the quarters belonging to Draco torn apart and wrecked. Only this morning, Leonas found Draco locked in Numeranor, the tombs of the Kings and Queens. He was practically starving to death and contemplating suicide._" Mirima clapped a hand to her mouth, "_He is recovering at my home and we think some time away from Ariador shall do him good._"

"_He lives, then?_"

"_Yes. He is recovering but will not yet speak of what happened. You must understand that he was terribly upset when we found him and we cannot press him too much. Arawen and Marilla have been given leave to stay with him._"

Mirima gave an audible sigh of relief. Celemarin too looked glad at this news for a moment before asking, "_But, what of the Prince? When was he last seen?_"

"_That would be,_" Jaurion scratched his chin, thoughtfully, "_when he came from the orc ambush. That was when I last saw him but there have been claims that he was seen running from the palace._"

"_I was just going to search for him now that we have found Draco alive. Hopefully, this good fortune shall extend to his master._"

Mirima glanced over her shoulder, as though expecting to see some clue of the Prince's whereabouts, "_Why did the Prince kill them, though?_" She said, thoughtfully, "_They captured Draco, we know that much, but why kill them?_"

"_We think,_" Lindilwen recovered from her fit of tears, "_that my son had tender feelings for Draco, though the boy knows not of it. And, we think that Draco may also have feelings for my son, though my son knows not of it._"

Mirima's eyebrows raised, "_Calasier Avamela is in love?_"

"_It is more complicated than that._" Maltandir sighed, "_Even we do not know all. However, all will be revealed when I recover the Prince, no doubt. Now, if you will all excuse me, I shall scout the land and search for him._"

"_May good fortune be with you, Maltandir!_" Celemarin waved as he ran toward the castle gates. Maltandir would be going on foot since a horse may trample any tracks or clues. Once in the forest, he lowered himself to the ground, looking for any traces of a footfall from the Prince. _Ah, no good._ All tracks were recently made. It was a well-used road, after all.

Instead, he looked around the walls. It may have been two days but any tracks would be more prominent in the soft ground. The snow of the past blizzard was now melting away and made it slightly muddy underfoot. Any footfalls would leave significant prints. He was not disappointed; there, about a hundred metres from the main gate was traces of a set of footfalls leading from a small wooden door almost completely concealed by strings of ivy. They were frozen in place by a helpful frost that had replaced the snow.

_He was running swiftly. These prints are more shallow. _He followed them, keeping low to the ground to detect any change in direction. Some fallen twigs lay beside it, snapped, _He was waving his arms. _Something glinting in a bush distracted his attention from clues of the Prince's actions. _The snow is over. Does some cling still? _It was not white, however, but silver, _It is too smooth to be frost. _He strode over to it, curious. What he saw made his heart stand still.

It was the Prince's circlet, unmistakably. The finely crafted silver thorns and holly-leaves could not be mistaken for anything else, _It fell here. Or it was knocked away? There are no other prints so no kidnapper knocked it away. _The moonstones within it were glimmering faintly, _Does the enchantment of myths hold true? Do the stones aid those that would help it back to its master?_

Maltandir put the circlet to his lips, "_I wish to find Prince Hari._" The moonstones seemed to understand and glowed a little more brightly. Maltandir laid it flat on the ground. Eight stones were set into it, all positioned at regular intervals around it. This was the traditional design of the monarchs' crowns, _Like a compass! _He realised. Looking more closely, he saw that one was glowing more brightly than the rest. He brought it up to his eye. There was an Elvish rune carved within it. Maltandir's aquamarine eyes picked this out, being so trained to see what others ignored, _South_.

He looked back to the footprints, _They lead south._ Inspired anew, he ran further, using the circlet when needed. He slept only a few hours when he was tired, ate only when he was hungry and, all the time, kept himself going by the thought of finding the Prince safe. In two days, he'd passed from Valivial to Alqualond. All the time, the circlet told him that the Prince was south of where he was. The footprints became harder and harder to follow and, once he had passed along the Great River, they had disappeared altogether.

He now had only the circlet to rely on but that never failed him. It took him a few hours after crossing the river to realise that he was following the trail of a horse and caravan. A new fear came into him, _Was he kidnapped along the way? _As though in response to his thoughts, another stone glowed. Putting his eye to it, Maltandir saw the rune for 'North-East'. This confused him for a moment but then, he realised that this rune also meant 'no', _Does it answer questions too?_

"_Is he alive?_" He asked tentatively. The 'no' stone stopped glowing and the rune for 'South-West' started glowing. That rune also meant 'yes'. Judging by the intensity of the glow, it was a very definite 'yes', too,

"_Is he being looked after by someone?_" 'Yes' kept glowing, "_Does someone I know take care of him?_" 'Yes' glowing but it was fainter, _It is someone I know but only vaguely, _"_Is he Alqualond?_" _Maybe it is the Princess of Alqualond. She was courted by him for a while, _'No' glowed brightly, "_Is he on one of the islands?_" 'Yes' glowed, "_The Tume Isles?_" 'No' glowed, "_Lindaria?_" 'Yes' glowed, very brightly,

_He has been taken to Lindaria. _Slight misgivings emerged in his mind, _That is not a place Valivial is on best terms with. I do hope he is taken good care of._ He ran through the valleys of Alqualond until he reached the famous and largest port. Here, passenger and cargo boats departed and arrived on a daily basis. Here would be the best place to catch a boat to Lindaria. Others had boats that only operated on certain days and, here, boats to Lindaria could be rented. The journey would take a day but, if the Prince was in good hands, a day would not matter as much.

A likely looking boat lay tied in the harbour. He descended the steps to the jetty and examined it. It was painted bright green and had the Lindarian horned fish flag on its stern. It was a small wooden boat with the name _Vermont _painted in human letters on the bow. A wooden figurehead was roughly carved into it, depicting a winged snake with bared fangs, facing the sea.

Presently, a small Water elf with an sack-cloth apron and an armful of supplies came and boarded the vassal. Her hair was covered by a white cloth bonnet and her face was weather-beaten, with rosy cheeks and wide-open eyes, "_Excuse me, miss._" Maltandir stepped forward to get her attention, "_Does this boat take passengers to Lindaria?_"

She looked at him, confused, for a while, before speaking in French, "'_I'm sorry?'_"

"'_Oh, forgive me.'_" Having been to many parts of the human world, he was fluent in many languages. Lindaria was a many varied place and many languages were spoken there, "'_I said, does this boat take passengers to Lindaria?_'"

"'_For a fee, I do._'" At the sound of her tongue, she relaxed,

"'_You manage this boat yourself?_'"

"'_Yes. I make a living on trading and taking passengers. Now, do you want a lift there?'_"

"'_Yes. I am searching for a friend there._"'

"'_Well, that's good. I have two spare bunks below. I can wait for you at Lindaria while I sell my goods and we can take you and your friend back. How does that sound?_'"

"'_Wonderful_.'" Maltandir felt it safer to not tell her the Prince's name or his unless asked. He took the invitation to climb aboard and paid the required fee. It was less than he thought it would be and felt that, at least, it was a good start. He learned that the girl was Sylvie Vermont, hence the name of the boat, and she lived on her own in a tenement building near the heart of Lindaria when she wasn't working, which was very rare,

"'_Are you a Nimohtar?_'" She asked, after the port was a good distance away and the afternoon was beginning to wear on, "'_Because I saw one of the Lindaria ones took one of those large passenger boats with his caravan a few days ago.'_"

"_'A Lindarian Nimohtar?_'" Maltandir frowned, '"_Did he take anyone with him?_'"

"'_Not as far as I could see. I only had a glimpse. Now, sir, tell me who you are. It's about time you did._'"

"'_Me? I am Maltandir, the Head of the Valivial Nimohtar._'" He felt it pointless to lie to Sylvie. She looked honest enough,

"'_Maltandir!_'" She nearly dropped the Featherpeach she was eating, "'_Why did you not tell me?_'"

"'_Well, I'm traveling on a private mission and an important one._'" Maltandir shrugged, hoping that she'd leave it at that,

"'_Searching for this friend?_'" She asked, raising an eyebrow,

"'_Yes._'" She seemed not to be too curious so Maltandir did not pursue the subject. It wasn't that he did not trust her but the Prince was in enough trouble already and he did not want more attention drawn to him.

The rest of the journey passed without much event. Sylvie, a little more shy after discovering his identity, proved to be a very competent seafarer and this made him wonder how long she had been doing her trade back and forth. He kept the Prince's circlet concealed in his bag and only took it out to ask whether they were going the right way. The circlet verified that the Prince was indeed close.

* * *

They reached Lindaria and landed at a harbour which had no jetties for Sylvie to moor. She had to make do with bollards on a five-foot high quay with a ladder close to it. Again, she showed great experience with this when she skillfully lassoed the bollard and swung herself up the ladder. Before embarking, Maltandir helped her unload her cargo: crates full of items Maltandir did not know. When the work was done, he set off to look for the Prince,

"'_Good luck finding your friend! Meet me at my boat when you have._'" She gave him a small curtsey before hurrying off along the seafront. Maltandir had pulled up his hood before coming out since he didn't want anybody recognising him and was careful to tuck his telltale beard into his clothes before setting off. Using his hood made him blend in more than expected since most of the passers-by had cloaks that concealed them. Still, he didn't take out the circlet again until he was in a nearly deserted street. Only a few Fire elves hung around shops, examining the items in the windows.

The moonstone pointing East glowed this time and, upon its guidance, he slipped through a side street and out onto the start of a steep slope. Maltandir had to bite back a gasp. The buildings were white and glistened in the midday sun. Looking round, he saw a wonderful view of the sea laid out before it. But he didn't have time to enjoy the view. Turning back to the task in hand, he turned back to the circlet. The moonstones were glowing more brightly now, _The Prince must be somewhere here._

This time, the circlet's moonstones began to point him in specific directions. He strode up the hill, using the circlet to guide him. All the while, it was glowing more and more brightly. Bridges were erected between buildings and the street was lined with all sorts of shops, mostly apothecaries. He was nearly at the top of the hill and approaching a tavern when the moonstones suddenly began to dim. He stopped and backtracked a few steps. The moonstone glow intensified again and the brightest one was pointing to an apothecary on his left.

Looking around, he saw the windows were blacked out and it was half concealed under a bridge. In front of the building was a horse and a black canvas caravan, not unlike his own. The horse snorted as he approached, in a way that suggested that it was trained to warn its owner of an intruder. _The wheels are the same as the tracks I saw._ Carefully, he patted the horse and whispered a few calming words before crouching down and pulling up its hoof, _The hoof marks are the same as the prints I saw,_

"_Does my horse interest you, Maltandir?_"

His head jerked up to the sound of the drawling voice. A pair of pale eyes glared at him from the open shop door, focused hard upon him. Maltandir stood cautiously, "_Do you know me?_"

"_We have met but once._" The merchant stepped out into the sun. He was a half-Drow dressed in the moderately-rich cloth of a successful merchant but his high black ponytail, thin sneering lips, curved eyebrows and pale eyes struck a chord of memory,

"_Morendil!_"

"_Hush!_" Morendil's eyes darted around to the near deserted road and he kept his voice low, "_None know I am a Nimohtar. That is our nature in Lindaria, unlike in Valivial where you wear your titles like crowns. Here, I am Noalith, the apothecary owner._"

"_Very well, Noalith._" Maltandir said, curtly, "_May I move inside to talk to you?_"

"_But, of course._" Holding the door open, he let the other enter. After closing the door behind him and putting the 'closed' sign up on the door, Noalith turned to him, "_So, how may I be of assistance to the Head of the Valivial Nimohtar?_"

"_Perhaps,_" His distrust of Noalith was rising again but he took out the Prince's circlet, "_you can tell me where I can find the Prince of Valivial?_"

Noalith's pale eyes lighted on the circlet with obvious interest. He was not looking at it with greed but with an evaluating eye, as though he was considering how much it was worth. Then, he strode around the counter and opened a back door, "_You have come to the right place, Maltandir. I have him in my attic._" Maltandir strode through the door first, pushing back his hood. Noalith followed him, "_I was simply visiting Alqualond to find out whether the rumours about him were true and, as fate would have it, I find him in the woods. I simply decided to smuggle him back to Lindaria._"

"_Why did you not return him to Ariador?_" Maltandir asked,

"_Because I knew you would search for him and he did not seem in any fit state to return anyway._" Noalith answered, still using that same drawl and not sounding in the least bit sorry for his actions,

"_Why?_" They were ascending a spiraling staircase and Maltandir's ears picked out the faint sound of sobbing from above,

"_He was maddened._" Maltandir stopped dead and stared at Noalith, now listening raptly, "_He kept speaking to all sorts of people, holding his ears and talking about Draco most of all._"

"_You know of Draco here?_"

"_Only I know of him._" Noalith leaned lazily against the wall, "_Hari came here before his employment and told me all about him. Well, I saw him in his mind and I managed to get most of the important details out of him after that. Ah, and I see that he is on your mind, also._"

"_What of the Prince?_" Maltandir sighed, becoming exasperated by Noalith's relaxed approach to this,

"_Oh, I would not attempt to get any sense out of him. He is completely addled. He has even Regressed._"

Maltandir became more worried. What Noalith meant was when one became so traumatized that their bodies subconsciously turned into their human selves. Since they often looked younger as humans, this was known as Regression. Maltandir strode up the stairs a little faster than normal and he could definitely hear crying and whimpering from behind a door on the landing they reached. As he approached, there was even a scream which made Noalith roll his eyes,

"_Go and talk to him if you want._" He gestured to the door and leaned against the opposite wall, "_If you are so worried about him, that is._"

After a small scowl at the half-Drow, Maltandir put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. The door opened on a small wooden room that was in complete darkness, "_He prefers the dark._" Noalith answered his unasked question. Maltandir produced a ball of light in his hand and its light immediately fell on an unused bed and something moving in the shadows. Moving closer, he managed to corner it. A cowering teenage human boy with dark hair and wearing an over-long nightshirt,

"_Hari._" Maltandir whispered. The boy paid no attention. His hands was clasped to his ears and he was repeating the same sort whimper in an anguished voice, "_...no, Draco...my Draco, do not weep...do not weep so...Arawen, please...Maltandir..._" He stiffened at the mention of his name, "_...Maltandir, do not scream so...I repent my beating you..._"

_The Madness,_ Maltandir lowered himself and gave the boy a little shake, "_Hari, do you hear me?_"

Hari glanced up at the touch and his wide eyes fixed themselves on Maltandir, "_...Maltandir..._"

"_Yes, it is I._" Maltandir lowered his voice to a gentle whisper. The boy shook and retreated out his grasp as though burned,

"_I did not mean to beat you..._"

"_I know._" Maltandir pursued him into the corner and took hold of him again, "_There are worse things I have endured than your fists, Hari._"

The boy seemed to forget he was there again and began muttering, "_...Draco, do not weep..._" All of a sudden, he threw back his head and gave a loud and long scream. He vaguely heard the door being closed behind him but he didn't care. Hari was rolling about on the floor, eyes glazed, obviously seeing something above to make him scream in terror. Maltandir hastily took hold of him, _If he were to harm himself,_

"_Draco is fine._" He pulled Hari into an embrace, "_He is at my home and is recovering well._" He gently rubbed Hari's back and this seemed to do the trick. The boy had stopped screaming, "_You're safe and that's all that matters. You had us worried. I expect Draco will be worried too._" On a sudden inspiration, he added, "_You can come back to Valivial with me and make amends as soon as your well enough._"

At the mention of this opportunity, Hari seemed to relax a little. He fell silent. That was a good sign. After a while of silence, Hari looked up, "_Maltandir?_" He whimpered. His eyes, though tear-filled, were completely lucid. Yet again, exactly like he had done at the campsite, Hari looked at him with a pleading look which made Maltandir's heart melt. His child-like human form added to this image of helplessness.

Stricken, Hari buried his face in Maltandir's chest, making his father's instinct twinge again. He held the boy as he felt the small body regrow into that of a High Elf. Noalith could be heard striding into the room, "_Well, Hari, glad to have you back._" Maltandir turned, about to chastise him for such an overly familiar form of address when Hari looked up,

"_Noalith?_"

"_You know him?_" Maltandir looked from one to the other, confused. This made Noalith chuckle,

"_You obviously have not told Maltandir here about our friendship._"

"_Noalith, I would like to speak to you in private._" Maltandir said, wanting to avoid Hari exhausting himself, "_Come, Hari._" He slipped his arms under Hari's knees and lifted him off the floor. He was lighter than Maltandir had expected. Noalith, inevitably, picked up on this,

"_I know. You should eat more, Hari. You are lighter than you ought to be._"

Maltandir let out an annoyed breath. This Noalith was far too honest for his liking. He laid Hari on the unused bed and pulled the sheets over him, "_How long has it been?_" Hari asked, wearily, "_Since I left Ariador._"

"_About five days._" Maltandir informed him, "_Get some sleep. I will call you when I am ready._"

Hari closed his eyes obediently and rolled over onto his side. Noalith rolled his eyes and Maltandir shot him a scowl. As they were descending the steps back to the shop, Noalith sighed, "_He is just like a child, you know. I blame this going to Hogwarts tradition in his family; it makes one regress to be around young humans and having to pretend to be one on top of that._"

* * *

A/N: Well, how about that? Noalith was Morendil. Don't know why some people thought it was Snape though.


	12. Confessions and Seperation

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I was at a relative's house and then, my Internet connection wouldn't behave.

**nilblaze: **Remind yourself in chapter 3. I'm thinking about Snape in this story but I'm undecided what I should make him.

**Crystal Malfoy: **Yeah, I made him like that. Kinda like Snape but Noalith's more blunt.

**sweety-pie2712: **Again, have a look back at chapters 2 and 3.

**neverfall16: **Are you? Really?

**evildictionaryninja: **Yeah, Noalith isn't a bad person.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 12: Confessions and Seperation**_

They reached the main shop again. Morendil excused himself to go and make a meal ready for the Prince. Maltandir noticed a whole Finned Crocodile on the bottom shelf of one set of shelves. It was curled up and completely still. Then, he realised by its unusual motionlessness and the price tag hanging off its horn that it was stuffed, _It is a protected species in Valivial. I know them to be plentiful here. Are they so plentiful that they can be so casually sold?_

Next to that was a high glass case with a dead-looking tree with only a few branches. What little live bark was being nibbled by what was unmistakably small Flying Fell Beasts. Maltandir stared at the things. Their bodies were about as big as his fist, their necks twice the size of it and their tails about the same length. When their leathery wings opened, they were hard grey and semi-transparent, stretching a little past Maltandir's middle finger. The little creatures flew from branch to branch every few minutes.

A few shelves above the Finned Crocodile was a shelf of bottles with the label _Love Potions_. This caught Maltandir's eye, _Their trafficking have only just been made legal a hundred years ago in Lindaria. _What really made him examine them closely was that there was a bare space next to the label, _Most potent. Apply only once and wait until the potion seeps out. Then, the love shall be true,_

"_You have a good eye, Maltandir._" Noalith reappeared at his elbow, "_I sold that nearly three months ago to a very particular customer._"

"_Who was that customer?_" Maltandir asked, suspicious,

"_Ah, I cannot reveal that._" Noalith put a taunting finger to his lips, "_You will have to find that out yourself. But, I can reveal that he is not from Lindaria._"

Maltandir frowned. Only a few countries allowed love potions to be legal and those other than Lindaria were far away. They would not have come to Lindaria simply for that, _If this customer was from a closer country, then they break their own laws to do it, _"_You would be correct there._" Noalith replied, as though he had said it out loud,

_So he does sell to criminals._ He broke this silence after a moment of uncomfortable thought,"_What is your relationship with the Prince?_"

"_Nothing suspicious, I assure you. We simply met in difficult circumstances in both our cases and befriended each other. The Prince visits here very often in disguise and only I know of his disguised form. Now,_" Noalith fixed him with an examining glare, "_I would like to ask you a question in turn, Maltandir. You seemed to know about this madness of his. Can you give any explanation?_"

"_I know not for sure._" Maltandir felt the spotlight shift to him and felt a little uncomfortable under Noalith's stare, "_There is an illness called the Madness, which is believed to exist by Valivial elves. It is said that, when a deity is angered, they take their vengence on the culprit by cursing them with it. It is when they hear the voices of those they have hurt. Whose voices they hear is dependent on the deity they anger. For example, if Turil, our deity of war, is angered, the culprit hears the cries of those he has killed in battle._"

Noalith raised a skeptical eyebrow but did not interrupt,

"_The Madness is only ever relinquished by the deity when they see fit. Nobody truly knows of its true nature or when it shall strike. Some deities are more unforgiving than others._"

Noalith was silent for a moment and then sighed, "_Well, I put it down to overractive guilt. From what I saw, Hari's mental state is not the cold, stable one he pretends to have. Now then,_" He picked up the tray full of prepared food, "_do you want me to bring up his food now or put it aside for when you are about to leave? Of course, you don't want to take too long. Remember that Miss Vermont is waiting to take you back to the mainland._"

Maltandir frowned at this knowledge and then, reminded himself that Noalith had the Rinatula. Maltandir took the tray from Noalith, "_I shall take this to him._" Noalith silently held the door open for him and Maltandir found the door to Hari's room open. Hari himself was sitting up with his head buried in his knees, which were being hugged close to his body. He was clearly crying, "_Hari!_"

Maltandir laid the tray on the bedside table and put an arm around him. The distraught elf looked up with puffy eyes, "_It is my fault!_" He whimpered,

"_No,_" Maltandir tightened his grip, _He still blames himself for what has happened,_

"_It is!_" Hari insisted, "_It is all my fault!_"

"_He means,_" Noalith's voice came from the door, "_what happened to Draco._"

"_How can that be your fault?_" Maltandir held him to his chest, "_You did not know of his feelings._"

"_He did._" Noalith said, again. Hari gave another sob. Maltandir frowned, looking around at Noalith. Then, back at Hari. And, back to Noalith again, who was wearing a significent smile on his face. Then, something clicked,

"_Hari, you visited Noalith after rescuing Draco, did you not?_"

With a great sniff, Hari nodded,

"_You bought something from him, did you not?_"

Hari nodded again, his cheeks flushing pink. Maltandir shook his head in disbelief,

"_Draco's love is not natural, then?_"

This time, Hari glanced up at Maltandir, his cheeks now red with shame. He shook his head,

"_Oh, Hari._" Maltandir could barely believe his own reasoning. Hari could break his own country's laws so badly simply to destroy Draco? "_You did not have to do this._"  
"_You know nothing._" Hari broke out of Maltandir's grip and buried his face in his hands, "_You know nothing of how twisted I am! What a rogue and contemptable slave I am!_" He looked up at Maltandir again and all but shouted, "_I love him, Maltandir! I have always loved him! I made him love me so I could make him suffer like this!_"

Maltandir could not believe his ears. How on earth could Hari stoop to such levels just to intentionally make a boy suffer? He stared, shocked, as Hari collapsed into sobs. Noalith sighed, "_Hari, are you going to eat that?_" Maltandir whipped round to scowl. How could Noalith be so insensitive at a time like this? "_Or are my efforts a waste to you?_"

Hari reached out a hand and picked out the first thing there, nonetheless. After a while, Noalith spoke again, "_I believe some of the fault may be mine._" He did not sound in the slightest bit repentant, "_I persuaded him to take revenge on Draco for all the hurt he did Hari while in the human world. I had forgotten that he was so easily persuaded._"

Hari nodded to confirm this and took up the cup of mulled wine in silence. After a little sip, Hari seemed to calm a little and consented to get ready to leave after he had finished eating.

* * *

Noalith took them down to the harbour in his cart, seeming to know exactly where _Vermont _was moored. Hari hid under a cloak Noalith sold him (though a disgruntled Maltandir paid for it). As soon as they boarded _Vermont, _Maltandir allowed Hari to stow himself away below so as not attract attention from Sylvie when she returned. Maltandir sat out on deck and looked out towards the horizon where he knew the mainland was, _Oh, deities above, what am I to do? Hari has strayed so far and yet Draco knows nothing of how he is deceived. Should I tell him and alleave him of this dreadful infatuation?_

Yet, something in his mind stopped him from thinking this was the best course of action to take, _Hari loves Draco yet. There was no lie in his eyes when he said that. Will he henceforth forgive Draco after this incident?_ He could not make up his mind and this troubled him greatly_, What will Jaurion and Lindilwen say when they know? Will they send Draco away, after they have grown to like him themselves?_ No matter what his own thoughts were, the King and Queen would be the ones to make the ultimate decision.

He absently looked toward the harbour before him. It was bustling with creatures of all sorts. He had travelled many places in his long life but very rarely had been to Lindaria. So, he started slightly when he saw the odd Drow and even orcs passing them right by. Noalith had left to tend to his shop, which was impossible to pick out over the tall tenement buildings, _Which of those is the one Sylvie lives in?_

Hours passed and, as the afternoon waned, Sylvie returned,

"'_Did you find your friend?_'"

"'_Yes,_'" Maltandir nodded, "'_but he wants to be left alone so he is below._'"

She nodded and questioned no further. Hari stayed below for the duration of the journey. Sylvie kept her word and asked Maltandir to bring down his meals rather than doing it herself. But, perhaps this was because the seas were rougher than before and wind threatened to blow them off course. She needed to keep constantly on deck to make sure nothing went wrong.

Hari was very quiet and hardly moved during his voyage. He just lay in his bunk, staring blankly at the ceiling. Maltandir wished he had the Rinatula so he could see what Hari was thinking, _Does he wish for no more contact with Draco after this? Or will he wish to forgive? _He was almost completely unresponsive all the way there. He only answered with the minimal amount of speech when questioned and wore a look of weary sorrow.

Only when, the next day, _Vermont_ was moored in the Alqualond port did Hari make a move. He pulled his hood up and sedately followed Maltandir off the boat. He said nothing as Maltandir thanked her but gave her a curt nod nonetheless. They strode along the harbour, Hari stubbornly refusing to show his face. Some people waved to Maltandir, who had lowered his hood, and he waved back with a cheery smile. His cheeriness did not extend to Hari, who looked nothing short of miserable,

"_I am very sorry, Hari._" Maltandir said, after realising something, "_I did not bring my caravan. Nor did I ask for it to be brought down. We will have to journey to Ariador on foot._" Hari merely nodded, without a complaint of having to sleep rough. This lack of communication made Maltandir worry, "_Hari, are you alright? Are you ill?_"

"_Sick of the mind, Maltandir._" He sighed, looking up to the darkening sky, "_When shall we reach Ariador?_"

"_If we come across no hindrance, two or three days. By the way, I did not tell you the truth when you asked how long you have been away from Ariador. I had lost track of time while in the wilderness. It happens sometimes. You have been gone for eight days so far. We shall make a stop at my house - oh!_" He gasped. A golden caravan was standing with a horse about twenty yards away. _His _caravan. _His _horse. Jumping down was an elf around the same age as Hari with long black hari, _Arawen? No, she is not so frail. _Indeed, it was not Arawen that hailed them but Marilla,

"_Maltandir!_" She hurried up to them, her hood falling from her face and allowing her grown hair to flow behind her,

"_Marilla!_" Maltandir blinked in surprise, "_What are you doing here?_"

"_Your Nienna gave me permission to take this down for you._"

"_Ah, thank you. Come, Hari._" He strode toward the caravan, Hari following silently behind. Marilla looked a little nervous when she saw the hooded figure and heard that it was the Prince. Maltandir remembered how Hari had shouted when he heard her name mentioned, _Perhaps he still harbours hatred for hurting Draco?_ They mounted the caravan in silence and Marilla, showing no signs of wanting to be alone with the Prince, spurred on the horse.

Soon, the harbour was left far behind and they were riding through woods that became denser and denser. Maltandir knew them to be denser due to the lack of light filtering through the canvas. Hari was as sedate and silent as ever, not even pushing back his hood. Maltandir, after a few attempts at conversation, moved up to the driver's seat to speak to Marilla,

"_How is Draco?_"

"_Bad._" Marilla's face fell slightly at this topic, "_He keeps asking about the Prince, where he is and what he's doing. Of course, I could not tell him he was missing so I told him that I had not seen him._"

"_Is he well?_"

"_He is recovering from Numeranor. He does eat a little but he cries himself to sleep each night._" Maltandir frowned. They would reach his house the next day and it would be surely night, "_The Queen requested this caravan to be brought. She awaits her son at your house._" So, the time to tell the Queen would be even sooner. She, who was so trusting in her son, would be the most heartbroken of them all.

They stopped near the border of Alqualond to rest for the night. Hari sat in the caravan in silence as ever. This silence disconcerted Marilla as much as it did Maltandir, "_Is he well?_" She asked, under her breath,

"_He says that he is sick of the mind. He has had a terrible time._"

Marilla shook her head, "_He is not the only one. Queen Mirima is having trouble with her daughter again._"

"_Again?_" Maltandir sighed. Princess Erudessa, younger sibling to the heir of the Alqualond throne, was famous for being openly rebellious and shrewish. She would shout in her mother's face at gatherings, throwing things out of the palace windows at passers-by and had violent tantrums. So violent that she was known as 'the Arla', the storm. Now, she had taken to not even showing her face in public for over a hundred years. Some said that it was because she hated the fact that she would not be Queen but her older sister. But others thought she was just born that way, "_What has she done now?_"

"_The worst._" Marilla said, darkly, "_She has cut her hair and thrown it in Queen Mirima's face._"

To cut one's hair or change one's appearance on purpose was seen as the ultimate disobedience. To an elf, their appearance was the strongest tie to their family and to change it meant that they no longer wanted to obey them. They were cutting away their ties and to throw any discarded item in the parent's face was even more shameful,

"_She has fled the palace and never returned since._"

"_That Erudessa._" Maltandir shook his head, "_Will she ever be tamed?_" He had met her once and once was enough for him to know her terrible temper. He never thought she would go so far as to run away though,

"_I have heard,_" Marilla said, "_that Queen Mirima tried to get her a Nienna. She point-blank refused to look at any of the suitors and stormed from the castle. Mind you,_" She lapsed into a gossipy tone, "_I don't know who would want to marry the Arla. I certainly would not consider it for fear of serious injury._"

Maltandir said nothing. He looked up to the night sky in silence while Hari sat opposite, not touching his food. His hood was pulled to its greatest extent so his face was in total shadow.

* * *

The next day, they drove on and Hari had not said a word. This time, he sat on the driver's seat, holding his hood up so nothing of his face showed. This earned him a few curious looks from a few passing elves that Maltandir should keep company with such a suspicious companion. Marilla stayed behind in the caravan this time and he could feel her nervous gaze upon the Prince from time to time.

The familiar woodland of Valivial flew past and they made no stop for a rest. Maltandir's home was a little past Ariador and he wanted to get there before the Prince had to face his parents, _It is better if I should tell them._ He had firmly decided that much. The day wore on without any event except for the clattering of the caravan wheels below them.

It was about midnight when they reached Maltandir's home. Darkness was gathering but the budding leaves were visible, _In a month, Harivosl shall be long gone and spring shall befall this land._ Maltandir couldn't help but feel a little better, _This spring is early, like the winter. This is an omen of bad things amended. Perhaps this affair shall end well after all._

The caravan trundled slowly into the courtyard. The house was built around and within a fine thick oak, oak being the best-regarded wood for houses in Valivial. Terraces with gardens were situated around it, some connected to two other trees, one to the West and the other to the east. The courtyard was situated in a small hole in the ground so tree roots grew over it, making perfect supports for stables. Their strange white bark (a sign of great wealth) glimmered in the moonlight.

The caravan was stopped in one of them and the horse backed into another. She seemed glad of a rest and immediately settled on the straw for a rest. Maltandir smiled, patting her, "_Good girl._" _I shall send for some refreshment for her soon._ Hari stepped down, still keeping his hood up, and Marilla kept close to the caravan, as though frightened of him.

The doors opened and Queen Lindilwen, her dark red hair flowing out like a long banner, rushed out. She was slightly breathless and Maltandir wandered how many steps she had to run down to get down there. She spotted the hooded Prince and ran to him, correctly guessing who he was. Without a single hesitation, she threw her arms around him,

"_Hari! Oh, Hari!_"

The Prince hesitated for a moment and then, put his arms around her in return, "_I am home, Athara._" He said, in a low, toneless voice. Lindilwen would not let go for several minutes, giving way to relieved sobs. She finally released him, wiping her tears on her sleeve,

"_Oh, but where were you?_"

"_In Lindaria._" Maltandir interrupted, seeing an opportunity to take control of the situation, "_A friend took care of him._"

"_Lindaria?_" Lindilwen repeated, frowning, "_I know not of any friends there._" She turned to Hari, who had his head bowed low and would not reveal his face still, "_Hari? Are you ill?_"

"_Draco,_" He said, in that same low voice, "_where is he?_"

"_Why, he is asleep._" The ends of her mouth downturned a little, "_He cried himself to sleep again, poor thing. In the second bedroom of the West Wing, I think._" Silently, Hari moved past his mother and toward the open doors, "_Hari?_" Maltandir frowned, thinking that he knew where Hari was going.

* * *

Hari had hardly any memory of the journey back from Noalith's shop. All he knew during that time was that he had to see Draco just once before his imminant punishment. He entered the house, deaf to all those who called after him. _The second bedroom of the West Wing._ He had been to Maltandir's home so often that he knew exactly what paths to tread.

The corridors were dark. The home was sleeping, silent as it should be. Hari relished in this silence. Nothing to distract his thoughts and no one to answer awkward questions to. His hood was still firmly in place upon his head. He would not push it back. Not yet. Not yet... Someone was following him, he knew it. It did not sound threatening; the footfalls were light, _Perhaps it is Arawen sent by my mother to give me good watch. _It did not matter. Nothing else mattered.

He reached the West Wing and strode across the window-lined bridge to the West Tree. Moonlight bathed him, cold and dim. His footfalls were a little louder on the wooden floor. His tail followed him, _They do not attempt to halt me. They are watch only. _This couldn't help but make him feel a little better as he moved closer and closer to Him, step by step.

At last, he reached the room. The door was ajar and was silent as he opened it a little. The watch did not follow him into the room. Another thing he was thankful for. The room was spacious, with a small table for taking meals close to a wide fireplace. The bed had semi-transparent hangings and did not entirely hide the one who lay upon it. The moonlight drained the place of all colour. The hangings looked white but it could have been any pale colour. Still, there was no mistaking who lay there.

As silent as a ghost, Hari glided over the floor and and slid his hand between the smooth hangings. They came apart easily as if in a dream, _They are the clouds that conceal the tender angel within._ The filtered moonlight cast shadows upon him, dancing upon his fair hair, _Oh, angel, please suffer the presence of such a wretched soul that I may gaze upon your beauty._

She had been right. He could see the tear stains upon His face, _Why do you weep for such a low demon?_ Hari had no power to say what he was thinking. It was as though the happenings at Hogwarts had never happened and he was meeting Him for the first time. His own eyes were filled with tears, _Oh, what a demon am I to harm such a beautious creature? Mortal? No, He is a fallen angel that shows what a monster I am,_

"Oh," Hari's voice was barely a whisper and something hot was trickling down his face, "oh, let me not leave until I have caught you in my arms." He extended his shaking arms and wrapped them around His limp body. In a quick instant, they had pulled the angel into his body, "Let none of my wickedness infect you yet I must hold you_._"

He was stirring in his arms but he did not release Him. This warmth was too heavenly to release freely, "Now allow your goodliness wash away my wickedness." He barely knew what he was saying. He simply held Him and cried. The boy's arms were moving, they were wrapping around him,

"Don't cry, Sire." The voice, too, sounded like an angelic choir all on its own, _Why did I not see it?_ "I missed you." What he saying brought more tears to his eyes, _This godsend has shed tears for me?_ "Are you still upset about what the orcs did? I tried to comfort you." This comment astonished him, _He did not seek to thank me for saving him but to comfort me?_

"Draco..." Hari moaned, as his body shook with sobs, "...oh, Draco..." They slowly seperated and he could see His eyes. They looked up quizzically at him, as though trying to see something that was just out of sight. They were searching him. Hari took hold of those smooth cheeks and carressed them with his thumb. Despite being as white as porcelain, they were warm and soft.

His body seemed not be connecting to his mind anymore. He did not remember intentionally moving forward but he did not stop himself. Draco was moving forward too. The gap between them was ever closing. And, yet, neither of them knew quite what they were doing. They only knew when their lips touched. Their arms wrapped around one another once more, pulling them closer together.

It was slow but chaste. They simply remained as they were with their lips pressed gently together. As they shared their first kiss, neither of them could remember why they had ever held back. It was so easy to just remain like this. Slowly, as if in a dream, Hari leaned forward and gently pushed Him back down upon the bed. Draco allowed this without resisting and did not tighten his grip.

After what felt like far too short a time, they gradually seperated. Draco's hand raised and stroked Hari's cheek. He had a small smile upon his face that told nothing but pure content. His eyes half closed, He allowed Hari to wipe the tears from His face. For both of them were crying. Whether with joy or something other, they did not know.

Hari could vaguely hear footsteps. People were coming and he would not allow him to disturb this perfect moment. No matter how heartbreaking it was, it had to end, "Sleep." He murmered. Draco obediently closed His eyes and allowed Hari to kiss His forehead. Reluctantly, he moved away from Draco bit by bit. He was glad of having spent that brief moment with Him afterwards. Now that he had tasted that small bit of heaven, he could move on with it and endure any hardship ahead.

* * *

The memory of that small moment of love with Draco lasted him the journey to Ariador. Arawen was not present and only his mother accompanied him. She had the familiar repressed fury in her face that preceeded an imminant punishment and she kept glaring at him accusingly, _She respects Draco. She has not taken kindly to this news._ Hari sat opposite her, gazing at the hands that had touched Him just moments before. Now that Draco was gone, he felt more ashamed of himself than ever/ How could he have damaged such perfection. A plan formed in his head to punish himself for it.

The journey was short: only a few minutes. A few lamps were lit around the courtyard and only one elf took the horse to the stable. A few lights were lit in the window and a figure was sitting, half asleep on the steps leading up to the front doors. King Jaurion raised his head and stood up immediately, "_Lindil, you have returned! Hari!_" He hurried to his son and engulfed him in a rib-breaking hug, "_Where on earth were you, son? We were all really worried!_"

"_Jaurion._" Lindilwen put a hand on his shoulder, "_We are going down to the court._"

Jaurion's face fell immediately. He knew what this meant. He turned slowly to his son, "_What have you done now?_"

"_I shall tell you when we get there._" Hari sedately followed his parents down into the secret court only used when he had broken the law and his parents did not want it to get out. He had been down there twice before. Now, this was for a worser crime. The Queen was stubbornly silent and the King kept glancing back at his son.

The passage was lined with stone, whereas the upper floors used wood, and the steps were steep and narrow. spiralling very tightly. If the lamps were not lit, one could easily fall down them. Hari always thought they were made that way on purpose so particularly wild prisoners could be thrown down to break some bones and make it easier to take them to the dungeons. He had even done this once when he was young and had broken both arms by the time he reached the bottom. Even now, he always trod the steps carefully and lagged behind his parents a little.

The passage to the courts were brightly lit as a constrast to the steps. This was to prevent potential escapees from using any darkness to conceal themselves. The courts varied in size. The first one they passed was the biggest, used for the most serious crimes but that was not the one Hari was being led into. That one was the very last one, concealed by the wall of a left turn.

Hari sat upon the wooden seat in front of the door without being told to and waited for his mother and father to enter. He knew that his mother was telling his father all about it but that was not why he felt like he did. He knew what he had to do to atone himself and settle his conscience. It was the only way as far as he saw it.

After a while, Jaurion opened the door. He was ashen-faced as he beckoned him inside. Hari stood, with an unconscious feeling of dread within him that preceeded a punishment. The court had no rows of seats but a table in the centre with three chairs around it. Two were facing him, one was facing the other way. That one was where Hari would be seated.

Without being told, he sat in that chair and laid his hands upon the table. His parents sat opposite: the King on his left, the Queen on his right. Her face was hard and the King sighed, "_Alright, Hari. I know what you did from your mother. Now, could you please explain why you did this?_"

So, Hari told them. He said most of it with his eyes staring at his hands. He could not meet their gaze. When he had finished, his cheeks were flushed. Now, all of his follys seemed ten times the worse. How could he have made such blunders as to not love Draco immediately? How could he have become just what had hurt him? The King sighed again,

"_I see. Vengeance is a treacherous road that will turn you into the very thing you hate, Hari. Remember that._"

"_I shall, Uteire. What shall be my punishment?_"

The Queen spoke this time, "_I believe that you both should take time away from one another. A month's seperation should be enough time. At the end, you shall either requite Draco's love or remove this potion from his eyes. I love Draco and will not see him suffer further._"

Hari raised his head, "_Send for a guard._"

"_What?_" The King pulled a face,

"_I shall spend that time in a dungeon, I have decided that. I shall be treated as a traitor would and beaten if necessary._"

"_Hari_..." The King stared, incredulously, "..._if you think we'd allow..._"

"_That is my pentinence._" Hari said, firmly, "_You are to give out that I am locked away for murder on ally ground. That lie shall please Queen Mirima._"

"_I cannot deny that she is angry with us for that,_" The King said, slowly, "_but we cannot simply lock you away._"

"_If you refuse,_" Hari went on, "_I shall lock myself away and will not move from my cell for the month._"

The King and Queen exchanged an uneasy look between each other. Then, they turned back to him, standing, "_Very well. But you will not be beaten._" Hari simply remained silent as they left to fetch the guard.

* * *

A/N: Finally, a love scene with Hari and Draco!


	13. Deriyor, Elivor and Maederhwen

A/N: Whoa, good haul of reviews this time around. Throw in a love scene and everyone loves this fic! Okay, this is going to be the last update before school starts tomorrow. Damn school.

**TheGodMachine: **Really? No one's ever said that about one of my chapters. And there was me worrying that I didn't do the love scene very well.

**sweety-pie2712: **Well, at least the wait wasn't as long as last time. I would I have updated this chapter sooner but my Internet acted up again.

**zZzQueen: **How was it? Was it alright?

**evildictionaryninja: **The crueller people would say he deserved it but, clearly, you're not one of them. Glad you liked the love scene.

**neverfall16:** Don't worry. As if I'd kill off Hari! Again, glad you liked the love scene.

**MissBellaBlack:** Oh, you're too kind!

Hari won't be in these next few chapters. It'll be mostly what Draco's doing during his imprisonment.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 13: Deriyor, Elivor and Maederhwen**_

Warm sunlight streamed through the open window, filtering through Draco's hangings. He did not open them, though. He was too busy thinking hard, _Was He really here?_ There was nothing left to suggest He was but he remembered it so well. The words that he spoke, the embrace and then, their kiss, _But, He would never do that. He hates me for sure. _His cheeks were itchy, proving the presence of tears, _But I did cry before I fell asleep._

The door opened and Marilla came in with a tray full of food, "Good morning, Draco!" She smiled, cheerily, "Are you getting up?"

"Alright." Draco swung his legs off the bed, pulled on a dressing gown and sat down to eat. It was strange to be in luxury after all that time he had spent in his small room in Ariador. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be waited on. In Ariador, he had gone down to the nearby pantry to eat. Now, to be served food in his bedroom took a little adjusting. He opened his mouth and then, closed it again. Today would be the day, he told himself, when he stopped asking about his Prince.

He dully picked up a green apple and took a bite. Marilla sighed,

"You should forget about him and enjoy your time here. It should be like a long holiday to you." Draco said nothing. He could not forget about his Prince, he just couldn't, "Oh, by the way. Maltandir's sons sent a message saying they were coming here. They wrote that they would be happy to take you on a hunt with them."

"I-I don't know how to hold a sword." Draco's eyes widened,

"They will teach you." Marilla smiled, "While you're here, the Prince's restrictions have no meaning. You can learn how to defend yourself properly."

Draco said nothing except, "Finished." and stood to get changed.

* * *

Maltandir's Nienna, Gailia, was a small elf with long chestnut hair worn in plaits wrapped around her neck. In the last few days, she had taken it upon herself to give Draco an 'education'. She made him sit with her in the drawing room and taught him about Elvish history, geography, mythology and Elvish language. Draco put up with it all, _At least I don't have homework._ But he was expected to remember everything he had learned from the previous day. Gailia was a strict teacher but did not punish him for making a mistake. She simply wanted his full attention at all times. Today, he was given the day off to be with Maltandir's sons but she reminded him that she was giving him a test the next day.

Maltandir's sons were both surprisingly different from the other. The elder, Deriyor, had golden hair like his father but it was shorter and ruffled. His skin was slightly darker than his father's and his eyes were dark, like his mother's. He was the taller of the two and had the attractively rustic look of a jovial countryman by his slightly faded, torn and frayed clothes. He even wore a straw hat.

The smaller, Elivor, was of slighter build, paler, had short dark hair longer that was almost completely hidden under a tightly-fitting hat that he would not take off even when indoors. He was more well-groomed and had a sleeker appearance than his brother in dark clothes so well kept that they looked brand new. His eyes were that of Maltandir's, though they were not as kind.

Deriyor greeted him with a cheery handshake and Elivor was more formal with his greeting. Gailia waved them out with messages of caution and the three of them equipped themselves with weapons. Deriyor was the more knowledgeable of the various hunting weapons and spent a good half an hour explaining them all to Draco. Elivor simply stocked the caravan without comment. Draco had the distinct impression that the latter didn't like him very much.

Nevertheless, he did not grumble when they set out. The caravan they used was smaller than the one Draco had hidden in with Maltandir and it was more uncomfortable to sit between the weapons they would be using. Elivor drove the caravan while Deriyor sat with Draco, telling him endless anecdotes about past hunts which Draco forgot within minutes.

After about ten minutes of riding, Elivor stopped the horse, "We are here." He called back and stepped down from the driver's seat. Deriyor too stood,

"Right, Draco. Grab a crossbow and let's get going."

The crossbow was less bulky than normal human ones but it was still awkward to carry along with the pouch of arrows that Deriyor fastened around his waist. The three of them walked a little way from the caravan and into the trees. Draco couldn't hear anything and wondered just how heightened Elven senses were if they could hear something coming. They stopped when they approached a clearing and Elivor took the lead of the party,

"So, Elivor, what is it this time?"

"Wargs," Elivor was readying a long spear in his hands, poising his body ready for action. Deriyor pushed Draco down into the undergrowth,

"Right, Wargs, we can deal with. But they are very good at playing dead. That is why you are here. It is your job to shoot the Wargs in the heart when they fall, just to make sure they are dead. Get them just between the front legs. You cannot be too careful when dealing with them. Very vicious creatures." Draco did not know what Wargs were but he stayed low anyway. The Elven world was dangerous and he didn't need telling twice to be careful, "Elivor will attack them first. A good jab with the spear will make them realise that we are a threat. They won't die but just play dead to lure us in."

Now, Draco could hear something. A faint thumping of something running towards them, getting steadily louder, "There are two of them." Elivor said, twitching his spear to the right a little, "They are chasing something. Something very light. Approximately twenty yards from us now."

"Eli is sensing them through vibrations in the ground." Deriyor answered Draco's unasked question, "Right, brace yourself." They rose slightly, Draco readying his crossbow, "Hold it like that." Deriyor corrected Draco's hold, "Both eyes open. You get a better shot."

His hands shook slightly with nervousness. A few doubts crept into his mind. What if he missed and hit Elivor? Or whatever these Wargs were chasing? Elivor took a few steps back, his whole body tense like a cat ready to pounce. Now, dark shapes among the trees were coming into view. They were big, very big, and growling loudly. The growls made Draco's hands quiver even more.

It happened in a flash. Two bracken-coloured, wiry-furred, fiery-eyed enormous beasts burst into the clearing. Their teeth were longer than Draco's fingers and their claws even bigger. The two of them rose to above Deriyor's height, just bigger than horses, but in the shape of monstrous wolves. Their noses were darkly stained with what looked like blood and their ears were flat against their heads. Draco did not remember seeing anything so utterly terrifying as this. In fact, he had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop his scream.

Yet, there was no sign of any quarry. The Wargs seemed to realise they had overshot their target and turned around, ignoring Elivor who was standing at the ready. With impossible speed, Elivor launched himself into the air, spear raised. He leapt forward and grabbed the nearest one by the tail. It looked like sudden death as the Warg wheeled around with a snarl but Elivor used his new handhold to pull himself up onto the thing's back. The other one only just noticed when the hunter managed to plant his spear in the other's back. The great brute fell with a strangled roar and its partner leapt to its aid.

Elivor looked certain to be squashed by the beast's bulk alone but he nimbly dodged out of the way. To his horror, Draco realised that he was leading the Warg towards them. He instinctively moved back a little, rustling the bushes. It looked up and made for his hiding place. Draco could not move for fright. He would be torn to pieces in a matter of seconds.

Then, Deriyor moved into action. Pulling a large, double-handed Claymore sword out of nowhere, he hit the beast right between the eyes. The second fell with an almighty crash onto the clearing floor. Despite the silence, Draco still trembled with fear. He remembered what Deriyor had said about playing dead. What if either of them were pretending? They could come to life at any minute...

He could vaguely hear someone talking to him and hands pulling him to his feet. Elivor's voice became clearer first, "...told you we should not have brought him. He is no use to this hunt."

"Now, now, Eli." Deriyor wagged a finger from beside him, "This is his first time seeing Wargs. Remember your first time, you fainted. I think Draco has held out very well." He turned to Draco, who was instinctively clutched the crossbow tightly to him, "Are you alright, Draco?" Draco tremulously nodded. There was nothing physically wrong, anyway, "Right. You know what to do. Get a good aim and shoot."

He was led around the beast that lay on its side and Deriyor pointed at a point between the front legs. Draco obediently lifted the crossbow and took aim. His hands were still shaking but not so much now. His finger tightened on the trigger. The arrow flew free with the speed of a bullet, so fast that he fell backwards. But the arrow hit true. With a last gurgling noise, the Warg died. Deriyor nodded, impressed,

"Not a perfect shot but you got his heart at least. Eli," He added, warningly, "might I remind you that you missed the Warg altogether and hit me in the leg?" He smiled and clapped Draco on the back, "Humans seem to have more strength than we give them credit for. Right, one more to go." Draco was led to the next one and shot it with a little better aim than before. He was glad that Deriyor was not criticizing him. Elivor simply looked away without saying a word. Perhaps this was his way of complimenting him,

"What are those things?" Draco asked, as the second died, more loudly than the last. Elivor gave an audible scoff while Deriyor resting his sword against a tree and began explaining,

"Wargs. They are very like wolves as you can see. They are a big problem in places like Ithil'orad. That is one of the main duties of a Nimohtar there; to hunt them on a regular basis. So, I don't know what they are doing here. There were reports of sightings in Alqualond a year ago but I thought they were all wiped out long before now."

"Maybe they came from Ithil'orad?" Draco suggested, "Maybe they were being hunted and they got away?"

"Now, that is a thought." Deriyor nodded. Elivor's head suddenly shot up, "What is it, Eli?"

"Something moves. In the bushes."

"Another Warg?" Deriyor picked up his sword again, ready,

"No, smaller. It is their quarry."

Indeed, the bushes were rustling around a tree about five yards ahead. Elivor advanced first, cautiously, as though afraid of startling it. His spear was held in a more relaxed grip, not ready to strike. Draco tried to peer over the bush to see what was there. Elivor saw it first and, for a moment, looked puzzled. Then, he began speaking in Elvish. Draco picked out 'hello' and 'are you alright' but couldn't understand anything else. He then took off his waistcoat and brought it behind the bush so Draco couldn't see it.

It only became clear when he came out of the bush with someone in tow. It was a child; a small girl only half Elivor's size. She had short honey-coloured hair, widely-open blue eyes and was wearing only Elivor's donated waistcoat. Draco had never seen a young elf before and was shocked at how human-like she was, _How did she manage to keep away from those Wargs before?_

She raised her head and stared unashamedly at Deriyor and Draco. When she caught sight of Draco, she changed in an instant. Her eyes widened to their fullest extent and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Deriyor raised his eyebrows, "What is the matter with her?" He wondered aloud. This confusion was increased when the girl broke free of Elivor and hurtled into Draco,

"Wh-what the...?" It took him a moment to realise that she was hugging him. And that she was also crying. She held him with unnatural strength for her size, even though her head only reached to his ribs, "...h-hey, _are you alright?_" He tried to speak in Elvish but this obviously didn't do any good. She still kept crying into his stomach.

He looked around at Elivor and Deriyor, who were both looking bewildered. Then, the girl raised her head and began moving her mouth. She looked as though she was trying to speak but had lost her voice. Draco had no idea what to do and was very grateful when Deriyor pulled her off him, speaking soothingly in Elvish. They traveled back in the caravan where the girl never separated from Draco and continuously tried to get whatever she wanted to say through to him. She seemed unable to speak, though, and became increasingly upset when she realised she couldn't,

"I-it's okay." Draco said, weakly, when she looked as though she was completely burst into tears again, "Just forget it."

This did not seem to console her but at least she didn't break down completely. She simply closed her mouth and looked miserable. When she suddenly ran a hand across his chest, Deriyor raised his eyebrows, "I do not know whether she likes you or not."

"Neither do I." Draco shook his head.

All through the journey, the girl stayed near Draco and would not separate when they got into the house. Gailia gasped when she saw her, "Who is she?"

"We found her chased by the Wargs." Deriyor said,

"She was completely naked." Elivor took over, "She cannot speak either. I believe that she is an elf that has Regressed."

"Oh, dear. Regression." She took the girl's hand and led her away up the stairs, talking in Elvish. For some reason, something she mentioned made Elivor grimace and stride away. Deriyor sighed,

"He is always like this when Maederhwen is mentioned."

"Who?"

"Maederhwen is our sister. My younger sister and the older sister of Elivor. She fell in battle two hundred years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Draco said, raising his voice a little in the hope Elivor would hear him,

"She was especially close to Elivor. Mother has just said that she will find some of Maederhwen's old clothes for the girl to borrow. Oh, Elivor will not like that, I promise you."

Elivor proved his word. When the girl appeared wearing a blue silk dress, he pulled a face and scoffed. Gailia gave him a reproachful look and addressed the table at large, "This youngling is a Regressed elf. For those who don't know what that is, it is a defense mechanism for elves to subconsciously use when extremely traumatized to turn into their human forms. Losing her voice was another of these. In order for her to get her voice back and to regrow, we have to make her feel as comfortable and welcome as possible. Since she can't give us her name, we shall call her Maederhwen until she can speak again."

This was too much for Elivor. He shot up from his seat, looking utterly outraged, "Can she not write? Can she not give her name there?"

"No, she cannot write, Elivor." Gailia reprimanded him, "I am sure, also, that your late sister will not begrudge the use of her name in this situation. Elivor!" For, at that moment, he had whirled around and stormed from in the room in disgust. Gailia shook her head and turned to the girl, "Never mind him, Maederhwen." But, Maederhwen did not seem to mind at all. For, as soon as her hand was released from Gailia, she went and sat down next to Draco. Gailia raised her eyebrows, "She seems to have taken quite a liking to you, Draco."

"I don't know if 'liking' is the right word." Draco said, glancing sideways at the girl, "She burst into tears when she saw me."

"Probably trauma from the attack." Gailia said, calmly, "She should be fine in a few days."

* * *

For the next few days, Maederhwen would not separate from Draco's side. She would only leave him in the morning when she had to get dressed and even then, she seemed reluctant. She would insist on sitting next to him during his 'lessons', would watch him in training grounds with Deriyor and was even found sleeping next to him above the sheets. Her most annoying habit was trying to get a glimpse of his bare skin when he was getting changed,

"Why do you like me so much?" Draco asked, when he had looked around after his second training session and, yet again, saw Maederhwen watching him. Deriyor, like his mother, had taken it upon himself to be Draco's teacher. This time, he taught him how to wield weapons in the right way. The swords were heavy in his hands but Deriyor assured him that his strength would adjust soon enough.

There went on another hunt after the discovery of Maederhwen. They were just preparing to leave when the doors opened and Maederhwen ran out, wearing hunting clothes and her purpose clear. Deriyor stared, "You cannot come with us, Maederhwen." He said, immediately. She scowled mutinously up at him. Then, before anyone could stop her, she delved out a bow and arrow from the caravan, "H-hey-"

She put the arrow on the string, pulled it back, took aim and shot it. It just missed Elivor, who gave a cry of anger when it passed his ear. He opened his mouth to shout at her when there was a soft thump behind them. An apple had fallen from a tree with Maederhwen's arrow pierced straight through it. She smiled and ran to it. To an astonished audience, she picked it up, took the arrow out and brought it back. She held out the weapons to Deriyor and held out the pierced apple to Draco,

"Oh, er, thanks." Draco took it, astonished at the skill such a small girl exhibited,

"Oh, alright, then. You can come." Deriyor nodded. Maederhwen's smile grew brighter and she hopped into the caravan after Draco. Elivor, on the other hand, looked disgusted. He stayed in the driver's seat, sulking the whole time. Draco broke the tension by nibbling on the apple Maederhwen had given him.

It was Wargs again. Draco fully expected Maederhwen to freeze in fear. On the contrary, she battled them with her borrowed bow and arrows expertly without a trace of fear. She even rescued Elivor from a pup that was attempting to avenge his mother. Still, Elivor showed no signs of gratitude, no matter how much Deriyor reprimanded him.

After the hunt, Draco had another training session. The training was hard but, to Draco, it was a blessing. Now, he felt part of this word. He was absorbing it from all the lessons, he was not confined to ignorance but able to enjoy this world, that seemed only half as dangerous as before. He found himself thinking of his Prince less and less as time went on. Deriyor was not as strict as Gailia but he was a little clumsy. He cut Draco a couple of times and, at all of them, Maederhwen would come out of her hiding place in tears and hug him again. The sight of him getting hurt seemed to set her off,

"Perhaps she witnessed someone she loved being killed." Deriyor diagnosed, as Maederhwen carefully mopped Draco's latest cut,

"Yeah - ow!" He gasped, as she tried to pull his sleeve up even further, "No need to do that!"

A harsh laugh came from the door to the house. Looking around, they saw Elivor leaning against the doorframe, sneering at them. His eyes, so like his father's, were now completely unlike; cold and scornful, "In all my life, I have never seen anything so pathetic. Since when did you need little girls to help you, Malfoy?" Ever since Maederhwen had been allowed to stay, he had gone from cold to downright unpleasant. Draco had witnessed him pushing the girl out of his way in corridors, laughing when Draco had hurt himself in training or just making snide comments to either her or him. No matter how many times he was reprimanded, he kept on his vendetta against them.

All of the time, Maederhwen had put up with it all. Now, her face contorted. Though still shining with tears, it flushed with anger. With speed not thought possible of her, she ran from Draco - SMACK!

Draco looked around just in time to see her hit Elivor right across the face so hard that he staggered. Deriyor gave a cry of shock as the sound of the impact echoed through the training hall. A silence followed, broken only by the breaths that told them Maederhwen was trying to speak again.

Elivor stared at her, bewildered that such a small girl could have such strength. Then, he regained his unpleasantness, "You little urchin!" The fight started. Elivor's hit was stopped by her hand and Maederhwen completely battered him. Her strength was incredible and Elivor was sporting a black eye by the time Deriyor tried to intervene,

"Elivor! Maederhwen! That's enough!" He shouted.

But they would not listen. Maederhwen threw Elivor into the training grounds, grabbed the training sword from Draco's hands and proceeded to whack him around the head with the flat. If she could have spoken, she would have been screaming. Dust flew everywhere as Elivor tried to bat it away. Draco did not want to intervene, seeing how strong she was but Elivor was still bigger than her.

His worries were proved correct when the sword went flying out of her hand and she was thrown to the ground. Elivor bellowed at her in Elvish as he kicked her into the ground. Draco knew enough Elvish by now to interpret that he was screaming insults at her. Deriyor had seen enough. With the brute strength of a bear, he grabbed Elivor by the chest in one hand, the waist in the other, and lifted him clean over his head. Draco watched with awe as Deriyor, with a grunt of strain, threw his brother ten yards across the training hall. Like a rag doll, Elivor bounced and rolled until he came to a stop some forty feet away, face down,

"ELIVOR, YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR! STOP THIS PREJUDICE YOU HAVE AGAINST DRACO AND MAEDERHWEN RIGHT NOW OR I SHALL BEAT YOU BLACK AND BLUE!" Maederhwen stirred feebly and stared at Deriyor. Draco too was amazed. He had seen Deriyor as a sort of gentle giant, strong but good-tempered. He never knew, even when fighting him, how truly strong he was, "HOW DARE YOU FIGHT A YOUNGLING SUCH AS HERSELF! NEVER HAVE I SEEN ANYTHING SO LOW AND DISGUSTING FROM YOU OF ALL PEOPLE! YOU'RE A DISGRACE TO THE NAME MOOREFIELD! WOULD OUR SISTER SAY IF SHE SAW YOU NOW? NOW PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER BEFORE I BEAT SOME SENSE INTO YOU!"

Elivor lay motionless. Draco thought he might be knocked unconscious. He stood up and crossed to Maederhwen, "_Did he hurt you?_" He asked in Elvish. She shook her head, though both her legs looked like they were broken. Predictably, she flung herself upon him and held him tight, "_I'm okay._" He said, at once, not knowing why she was worried about him.

Deriyor turned and strode over to them. He knelt down beside them, all anger gone from his face. Now, it was worried, "I am so sorry, Maederhwen. I never would have thought that he would resort to this. I have never seen him do this. May Orthion knock some sense into him soon." He tried to prise Maederhwen away from Draco but she clung on. Deriyor chuckled, "You do have some strength in you. Were you a soldier before now? Regressed elves do hold their old strength." Maederhwen shook her head. In the end, she released Draco and allowed Deriyor to carry her into the house in his arms. Draco followed behind, not wanting to be left alone with an undoubtedly angry Elivor.

They found Gailia who, upon seeing Maederhwen, immediately set to work healing her. After explaining to her what Elivor had done, she was furious, "What a terrible thing to do! Oh, just wait until I tell Verimir! Draco, you are a wizard." She suddenly said, looking at the girl's legs, "Could you help me?"  
It was only then when Draco realised that he had not held a wand in three months. It crashed upon him that he had completely forgotten about magic ever since he entered Valivial. His face grew hot. It was humiliating to explain it but Gailia's expectant face was even worse,

"I-I don't have my wand." He stuttered. Deriyor sighed,

"Oh, yes. Humans use wands, of course. Do you not have it with you always?" He asked, puzzled,

"No." Draco shook his head, "I have not had it since I came into this world. I, er, do not have anything from my home, actually."

Deriyor frowned for a moment and then, asked, "Where do you live, Draco? I shall go and get your things."

After giving him the address, Deriyor hurtled off out of the room. Gailia, though slightly disappointed, motioned him to come closer, "I shall show you how to heal a broken leg without a wand. Elivor is the best at magic out of all of us. He could give you lessons, if he ever improves his attitude. Verimir could also teach you should he need to." Draco preferred the idea of Maltandir teaching him than having to spend more time with Elivor than necessary.

He was still reeling from the fact that he had completely forgotten about magic for a quarter of a year. And he knew exactly why. He had been too busy thinking about his Prince and how to impress him. Everything from home had completely slipped his mind. As he watched Gailia fussing over Maederhwen, a twinge of guilt began to grow within him. He had also completely forgotten about his mother. He knew about the time difference between world but he had surely been gone long enough to make her worry.

How could he have forgotten her just like that? Was he so selfish to something as bad as that? _It was Him. The Prince._ This thought continued to echo in his mind, _I was thinking about the Prince._ This uncomfortable thought stayed with him so much that he did not pay attention to Gailia and had forgotten what she had done to heal her,

"Now, where is Elivor?"

"Back at the training hall, I think."

As soon as Gailia left the room, Deriyor appeared, pulling Draco's trunk with one hand and holding his wand in the other, "There you go." He threw his wand to him, "I shall put this in your room."

"Did you see my mother?" Draco asked, on a sudden inspiration, "Tall, blonde woman."

"Yes. And your father. They are both fine."

"How long has it been?" Feeling guilty for not worrying about them before, he attempted to make up for it now, "Are they worried about me?"

"Well," Deriyor looked like he was doing some sums in his head, "I'd say a day or less."

"A day?" Draco repeated, astonished. He hadn't expected it the time gap to be that wide,

"Besides, I believe the Prince made them believe you would be away for a long time so they are not worried."

Draco could not think what else to say. So much had happened in Valivial and neither of his parents were any the wiser of how close their son had come to death. Or his love for the Prince. This made his insides squirm again. If they discovered that their son was homosexual, they would disown him on the spot. Deriyor left the room to take up Draco's trunk and he was left with Maederhwen.

He looked around and, with a jolt, saw her crying again, "What's the matter?" He asked, worried, "Are your legs hurting again?" She strained her lips to form words through her tears and it took him a while to realise that she was having success,

"Yu...lo...em..." They were incoherent syllables at first and then, they formed words, "You love them. You love your parents."

"Maederhwen," Draco breathed, astonished. Her voice sounded like a twenty-year-old's voice and was bold despite her distress, "you spoke."

"You love them. You have always loved them." She sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder, "You have never caused them trouble."

"Yeah," Draco nodded, "I try not to." He then realised that she was trying to undo his shirt, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"You must have the scars. They must have scarred you."

"What?" Draco moved her small hands from his chest, "What are you talking about? Elivor did not attack me."

"No!" She shook her head wildly, "That Fanka Gang! Caradfanka tore you up so badly!"

Draco gasped, "You were there?"

With a wail, Maederhwen punched the couch she was sitting on as if in frustration, "I was a fool! A complete and utter fool! Why did I do it? Why did I run away and get mixed up with them?"

"What? What?" Draco was completely at a loss of what to do with her and had no idea what she was talking about,

"I was one of them, Draco! I was Nimfanka!"

"B-but they were all male!" Draco stuttered,

"I know!" She wailed, "I was their toy! Calenfanka was going to violate me after they had finished with you!"

"But, if you were one of them-"

"They didn't care!" She was almost in hysterics now, "I wanted to rebel against my mother, that is why I joined them! I did...I did not know what they would do to me! I did not know who they were! I knew them all! Then," She flung herself into Draco's body again, "then, the Prince...of Valivial came! He-he killed them all! He would have killed me!"

"W-what...?" Draco reeled from this news,

"I h-hid in a c-cupboard and saw it all! I-I did not want to die! B-but..." She howled and dissolved into tears again, moving closer into Draco. Draco himself was frozen in shock, _She had seen that gang die? She was a part of it? _Just then, Gailia appeared at the door,

"What has happened?" She asked, seeing Maederhwen in such a state,

"She spoke." Draco said, not knowing quite how to phrase what he had just found out,

"Did she?" She too was astonished, "What is it, Maederhwen?"

Maederhwen would not answer. She simply cried. Gailia addressed Draco instead, "What did she say? When did she speak?"

Draco was about to answer when he felt Maederhwen's hand squeeze on his clothes and felt her shake her head a little, "When I asked Deriyor about my parents." He said, taking it as a request not to give away her secret, "She got into a fight with her mother before she Regressed." Thankfully, Gailia nodded and asked no more. She then sighed and leaned against the wall, looking tired, "What's the matter?" Draco asked, not used to seeing her like this,

"It is Elivor. He has run away again."

"Again?"

"He has a habit of running away when bad things happen and he cannot cope."

Deriyor entered, with a scroll in his hand, "A letter from Father!" He said, happily, "He is coming from the palace for a week tomorrow."

Gailia smiled and took the scroll from him. After reading it, she put it upon a table, "We shall have to attempt to find Elivor tonight before then. He has run away again."

Deriyor put his head in his hands, "Again? I think that I did not hit him too hard!"

"The fault is mine." Maederhwen said, looking up from her tears. Her voice made Deriyor jump and look around for who had spoken for a moment, "It must have been I who hit him too hard."

Gailia smiled, "It is alright. Now, you should get changing into your traveling clothes again. We'll set out now. Oh!" She gasped, just as Maederhwen was about to leave, "Now you can speak, could you give us your true name?"

Maederhwen's eyes lowered, "If it will please you, I would like to keep Maederhwen for a little longer. My name is a danger to you."

* * *

A/N: Well, what d'you think of my new characters?


	14. The Kelvara

A/N: Hello? Hello?! Anyone there? Why did I only get two reviews? Do you like Hari that much that you hate any chapter without him? Well, this one has got a bit of Hari in it so please review! By the way, I'm back at school now so please excuse me if updates take too long!

**evildictionaryninja: **You may not miss Hari but it seems other people do!

**kuruma's bitches**: Nice name! Okay, let me clear it up for you. Verimir is Maltandir's real name. Maltandir's just a title and a nickname. He's hetero and, yes, Leonas is homo. Tell me if anything else is confusing you.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 14: The Kelvara**_

Marilla and Arawen, it turned out, were the ones who brought the message. Draco had never noticed their absence. They had slipped away quietly when Draco had been away on the first hunting trip, so they told him, "It was an experiment." Arawen explained, "To see if you were getting any better and if you could manage without us."

"I didn't notice." Draco said, truthfully, "Too much going on."

"Oh, yes." Marilla nodded, looking over at Maederhwen, who was helping Deriyor push the horse into the carriage, "Do you not think it a little suspicious, Draco? That she will not give her name?"

"Maybe she's in danger?" Draco shrugged. He had not given this fact a lot of thought, "Probably hunted by someone."

"But, why, though?" Marilla wondered, leaning in closer, "You do not think that she is a spy for the Drows like I was, do you?"

"No." Draco shook his head, firmly, "No, I most certainly do not!" He had not confided in anyone about Maederhwen being part of the Fanka Gang and did not intend to in the future,

"Why is that?" Marilla asked, puzzled by Draco's certainty,

"Because, she does not act like you did." Draco said, without missing a beat.

They could not continue their conversation since Deriyor called that they were about to leave, "We shall remain here." The sisters said. Draco waved goodbye to them and pulled himself into the caravan. Maederhwen, Gailia and Draco stayed in the back while Deriyor drove the horses. But, it was only one horse this time and not the strong type he had seen driving it before. If fact, Draco doubted whether the small creature had ever pulled a caravan before. Indeed, it went so slowly that it took them about a minute to get past the gate.

Draco made his way to Deriyor and asked why, "We cannot use any of the normal horses," Deriyor answered, "because Elivor has the _Kelvara._"

"The what?"

"The _Kelvara._ It is a gift passed down through generations and gives inheritors the ability to transform into an animal. Maederhwen, his sister, had it too."

"What, like Aminagi?"

"Yes," Deriyor nodded, as though giving him half a mark, "but the difference is that having the _Kelvara _means that you are born with the ability. You cannot gain it through any magical expertise. You can control when you transform with a bit of practice but, if you are under a lot of stress or are feeling particularly unhappy, you can transform without your will."

"Do you have this _Kelvara?_"

"Oh, yes." Deriyor nodded, proudly, "All of us got it from our mother's side."

"How do you know you have it? Do you just transform by accident when you're young?"

"Yes." Deriyor nodded, "We both found out when we were just children. We were fighting one day, as siblings do. It was over something very silly but, at one point, Elivor suddenly got very scared and started crying. I did not know what I had done but, as I attempted to comfort him, he started to shrink before my eyes. and then, it looked as though he had disappeared altogether. I was about to go and call Mother but I saw something move in the heap of empty clothes. Lo and behold, there was a little black and white kitten underneath all of them."

"He can turn into a cat?" Draco said, surprised. Then, he thought it was not impossible. Elivor was very cat-like when he was hunting,

"Yes. He looked up at me and said 'Brother, have you looked at how big you are'-"

"He spoke?" Draco's eyes widened. Animagi could not speak in their animal forms as far as he was aware. And they transformed with their clothes too,

"Yes. Those with the _Kelvara_ can still talk in their animal forms. So, afterwards, I said to him 'Brother, have you seen how small you are'. He did not know he had transformed until he looked into a pool of water nearby. And neither did I. I had turned into a bear cub. My anger must have peaked and caused me to transform. Different things make us transform without our will. For Elivor, it is sadness. For me, it is anger."

"You can turn into a bear?" It was easier to imagine Deriyor as a bear. He had such brute strength, "Oh, is that why you have this horse? You might trample Elivor if you don't take care."

"Indeed." Deriyor nodded, "If he has transformed, he will be a lot harder to find. He has used this ability to run away many times. The longest he was gone was about six months and that was when he discovered Maederhwen had died. Remember, we are searching for a black cat with a white face and white front paws."

Draco peered out onto the earth road. It would be easy to pick out a dark shape against the light brown earth but, once it got dark, it would be very difficult. And it would be very easy for a cat to hide in bushes or even up a tree. He had a look up at the overhanging branches hopefully but no dark shapes materialised upon them,

"What about Maederhwen?" Maederhwen asked, from behind them, "What did she turn into?"

"The same as Elivor." Deriyor suddenly looked downcast, "You see, Maederhwen was not only Elivor's sister. She was his _twin_ sister. Exactly alike to one another."

"I thought you said that she was older than him." Draco found it very easy to remember what elves said rather than humans,

"Older, yes. By ten minutes."

So, the journey went on. Every hour, they would leave the caravan and disperse to search for him. But, it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Draco thought he caught sight of a dark shape on a tree but it only turned out to be a Fork Squirrel (a squirrel with a forked tail). They stopped at a market town to buy some food for a picnic. While there, Maederhwen bought a small piece of dried fish (a rare find since elves seemed to eat no meat) which she wrapped in her cloak and secured her shirt. She did not take it out all through the meal. When asked about it by Gailia, she simply smiled and said,

"I have never met a cat who did not like fish."

After the meal, Deriyor hauled himself up to the driver's seat one more time, "There is one more place he may be. We shall go there before we give up." So, they went on. The fish Maederhwen was hiding started to smell as it got dark so Draco spent most of his time in the driver's seat with Deriyor. There was not much point trying to look for Elivor in the dark so he simply chatted unconcernedly with Deriyor while they trundled on.

Presently, a light appeared in the distance and something solid appeared in the distance. To Draco, it looked a little like a cathedral with its pointed roof and statue upon the point. Then, the horses' hooves clopped loudly against the smooth path lined with pale white lamps on top of gold poles. The white marble beneath them was shimmering and spotless in the dim light. Maederhwen peeked out too, staring in wonder at the building ahead.

It was made of pure marble and the decorations shone golden. A pair of large black owls stood as sentries on either side of the door, contrasting with the bright and beautiful building. A statue on top of the roof was painted to look so lifelike that she might have been swept away by the wind, "Garthiel." Deriyor said, noticing Draco looking, "The beautiful deity of death."

"Death?" Draco repeated. How could anything so beautiful signify death? Suddenly, all the white and gold reminded him of Numeranor and he realised what this place was,

"This place is her temple and it is also a place of rest for the dead. For those who can afford it." He added, casting a significant glance at all the gold around them, "Maederhwen was buried here. Her gravesite is one of Elivor's haunts but he could be anywhere." Draco was secretly glad of the marble. The white stone would make it easier to pick out a black cat, "We must go different ways. Be back at the caravan when the bells toll."

He stopped the caravan in the courtyard, "This is where the poorer people are buried. You see?" Draco flinched when he realised that names were carved upon the long flagstones (that looked very like gravestones). He couldn't help but mutter in Elvish whenever he stepped on one,

"_Sorry. Sorry._"

When they got inside the cathedral-like temple with many rows of Elves bowed to a larger version of Garthiel, Deriyor began to organize them, speaking in Elvish but Draco knew enough to get the gist, "_Mother, search in the courtyards. Maederhwen, search in the vaults below. Draco, search within the vaults on this floor. I shall search in this place._"

* * *

They split up. Maederhwen took the door leading down to the vaults below. She knew where it was for she had been here. This was the place where the richest elves that were second only to royalty were buried. They were hidden away with more privacy in separate rooms in marble coffins carved with a picture of the dead elf. This was more of a convenience for their relatives rather than the dead. Or, that was how Maederhwen had seen it.

Her small feet made little noise on the marble staircase. It was amazing how much of it was used in one building, _Do they not have better ways to spend their money?_ She thought, as she reached the basement. It was surprisingly well lit, as was everything here. The doors were gilt with gold and whitewashed. The names of the people they held were written on the doors in golden lettering, _The best houses are built for the dead._ There were few elves in the corridor and she earned a few stares for her short hair and men's' clothing. She, however, took no notice. She had once walked a street naked so she was used to people staring her.

There was no particular order of people but she found the one she was looking for quickly. The name Maederhwen Moorefield was clearly written on a door that was ajar, _He is in here or has been in here._ She was glad that she was so small at this point since she could slip into the room without opening the door any further. The tomb was white marble, just like all others, with a long-haired elf dancing upon the top. This, she supposed, was Maederhwen. She moved a little closer to have a good look at the image.

Suddenly, something dark and small darted out in front of her. A black cat glared up at her with aquamarine eyes, its white face and front paws visible in the well lit chamber. Its back was arched, its fur standing on end and its mouth open in a hiss. Maederhwen looked down at it for a moment and then, let her face relax,

"_Ah, what a cute cat you are._" The cat closed his mouth and it looked comically confused. Repressing the urge to laugh, Maederhwen lowered herself and pulled the fish from her shirt, "_Here, kitty. Have this. I got it this afternoon._" The cat eyed it warily. This time, she could not contain a laugh, "_I haven't poisoned it!_" After edging forward bit by bit, the cat gave in and sniffed it. After deciding that it was fit to eat, the cat took the corner of the fish in its mouth and marched around the tomb to eat it in peace.

Now the guard had left its post, Maederhwen strode over to the tomb and peered at the elf carved there. She had a bright smile upon her face and her clothes flowed around her. She looked as though she had been frozen in marble while dancing in an archway of a gate. Her hair was long and splayed all around her like an overlarge halo. Her eyes were slanted so, if her hair had not been in her face, she might have been the exact image of Elivor, _So, she is his twin._

She strode around the tomb and saw the cat had nearly finished the fish. It hadn't noticed her looking at the tomb, "_Was that good?_" She asked, grinning. The cat looked up and eyed her suspiciously. Maederhwen giggled, "_Look at you, staring at me like you think I'm your worst enemy._" She patted the top of the tomb, making the cat hiss again, "_I have the same name as this elf buried here. Or, I am called that name anyway. I am looking for her twin brother, Elivor._"

The cat relaxed a little, as though something it had been worried about turned out to be nothing. Maederhwen straightened and looked down at the tomb again, "_I think they look very alike. Their faces are exactly the same._" The cat made a noise of surprise, "_Well, I am only looking at an image of her so I cannot be sure._" She turned back to the cat, "_He carries her sword, you know._"

The cat gave another louder noise of surprise, "_Yes, it is true. Look._" She reached down her shirt again and pulled out a thin sword, "_This is what he carries all the time. I first noticed when I saw it close up during a hunt with him. You see?_" She drew it out of its sheath and showed the cat the blade, "_The difference between male soldiers' swords and female soldiers' swords is that female soldiers' swords are slightly thinner and longer. Male soldiers' swords also have serrated edges while this one is smooth._"

She smiled and put the sword back in its sheath, "_He must have gone looking for it when she died. That was why he was missing for six months. When he found it, he thought 'this sword was wielded by my sister and, in my sister's name, I shall carry it forth'. Something like that, anyway. Maybe he went to seek revenge after that. That was why he was gone so long._" The cat was looking up at her with rapt interest, taking in every word she said, "_Of course,_" She added, with a small smile at the cat, "_that is just my guesswork. It could be something else for all I know. It is something that happens between siblings, friends and Niennas._"

She then tossed the sword onto the floor. The cat immediately streaked to it, "_Well, he might come here so I'd better leave these for him._" She pulled out a long cloak from her empty quiver of arrows and Elivor's hat, "_See you._" She turned and walked from the room.

Even after her footsteps had faded, the cat still stared after her at the door. Then, after a moment's silent contemplation, the cat enlarged. The fur receded and the paws morphed into hands and feet. Elivor sat naked upon the marble floor for a moment, clothed in nothing but his skin and hair. After about a minute of astonished silence, he reached out and took the discarded objects from the floor.

* * *

The bells tolled through the silence, which was the signal that the temple was closing. As one, the elves within began to make their way out. Draco, Gailia, Deriyor and Maederhwen found each other among the crowd as soon as they were outside, "Any luck?"

There was a general shaking of heads and 'no's among them. Deriyor sighed and ran a hand through his hair wearily, "There is no point pursuing him through the night. Would we had Father with us. He is an expert at tracking all manner of things. Come, back to our caravan." The disappointed party trouped back to the caravan that was half hidden behind the throng of people. When they got there, however, they got a major surprise.

Someone was already sitting there when they arrived. They could see him silhouetted even from outside. Deriyor held out a hand, cautious, and made his way forward. This action made Draco feel worried about an ambush. His good luck in Valivial so far could not last. However, Deriyor let out a peal of laughter when he opened the tent flap, "Eli!"

Gailia hurried over to it and swept up into the caravan. By the time Maederhwen and Draco arrived, she had her arms around her son, speaking in relieved Elvish. Elivor looked as though he had not even noticed her there. He seemed distracted and kept his eyes to the floor. His hands were keeping the cloak he was wearing wrapped tightly around him. He could have been trying to keep out the cold except it was new spring and he was clothed in nothing else, except his usual hat. Draco wondered whether that hat could be taken off at all and whether it was permanently stuck there.

Maederhwen settled herself opposite him without fear and, every now and again, Elivor would glance up at her. Except for those time, he kept staring silently at the floor, ignoring all questions posed to him. This was irritating to Deriyor who wanted to know where he had been and kept asking him over and over again. Draco could understand most of the questions posed to Elivor now.

The visit to Garthiel's temple had been very rewarding for Draco. Not because he was interested in the architecture but because he could test himself on Elvish language. He had learned surprisingly much with Gailia as a teacher. Now, he felt even more confident in this world and that he was now a part of it, not just a visitor. This was now where he belonged.

It was only when Gailia lit a lantern that Draco realised something, "Maederhwen, you're bigger."

For she was. Her legs were longer, her limbs more defined (or her legs were since she was wearing tight breeches) and the frailty of a young girl was fading from her. She looked down, as though she hadn't noticed. When she looked surprised, Gailia looked her over and nodded,

"Yes, the Regression is definitely losing its hold over you. You never can tell how long it will take. It could happen in an instant, it could take ten years, but you are already beginning to grow back into your old self."

"What makes you grow back?" Maederhwen asked and, seeing Gailia's expression, sheepishly added, "I never paid much attention to my tutors."

"It depends. More often than not, it is doing the opposite of what you did previously. The Regression has benefited many people and helped them learn the error of their ways."

"So," Maederhwen said, slowly, "hypothetically speaking, if a Regressed elf had disobeyed their parents nearly all their life and caused nothing but trouble before but starting helping others after Regressing, they would start growing back?"

"I have never heard of that happening," Gailia said, slowly, "but that could work, yes. Why?" She leaned in closer, "Were you a troublemaker?"

"I cannot say, lady." She shook her head, "I cannot return to my old life."

"Speaking of it is the first step towards recovery."

"No." Maederhwen shook her head again, "I cannot say."

Draco frowned. It had certainly sounded like that was her case from the way she said it. Maederhwen joined Elivor in silence all the way through the rest of the trip. It was past midnight by the time they reached Maltandir's house. Arawen and Marilla had both dozed off on a couch together, looking as though they had been waiting for them to come back all day. Maederhwen ran up the stairs to her room without a backward glance while Elivor sat on the windowsill, staring out of the window, deep in thought.

* * *

The night waned on and Elivor was not the only one who was sleepless. The dungeons of Ariador were silent but for the steady footfalls of the guards. The few prisoners were asleep by now. All but one. The Prince lay upon the hard bed in nothing but a long white robe embroidered with a few golden runes, what all prisoners of Ariador wore. He could not sleep.

_Ithilio, does it so please you to keep me from my sleep? Have all the deities united against me? _He slid off the bed and undid his robe down to his waist, baring his pale back to the small window, _Come, deity of air. Send your wildest winds and lash me until I bleed. I have not been lashed and so desire it._ But the breeze remained soft and gentle upon his bare skin,

_They will not outright punish me but deny what I desire. Such as I did to Draco._ He did up his shirt again and looked out of the tiny window. One could barely see past the grass but he couldn't help but look, _What does Draco do now? The potion works so that he cannot love another. Does he grieve over me? _He slumped upon the bed again, _Marilla said that he cried himself to sleep. Does he sleep with tears upon his face now?_

He closed his eyes but not in an effort to sleep. He knew that it would come to him, _Harivosl has long left this land. Eitel is coming. Draco would love to see this place in spring...as perhaps his last sight of this world..._He had been mulling over the ultimatum his mother had given him. Should he requite Draco's love but run the risk of hurting him again in a rage? Or remove Draco's love altogether, never to return, and condemn himself to a lifetime of being loveless?

_It is what you deserve, _said the same voice in his head that told him to imprison himself, _You do not deserve love and happiness. You have caused so much misery that it is only fair for you to suffer all your life too. You will marry only for money and producing an heir. You are Calasier Avamela and this is what you are destined to this life._

He buried his face in his pillow in an effort to prevent tears. He did not want Draco to suffer anymore but, with every day of imprisonment, his love of Draco increased, paining him even more. He could not bare to think of the life he would have after he lost him.

His sad thoughts were punctured by the sound of the door opening. Surprised, he raised his head from the pillow and looked around. The door opened and closed, letting in a figure. His father stood there, smiling sadly at the state of his son, "_Uteire._" Hari slowly stood, wondering what his father wanted now after only a few days of imprisonment,

"_Sit down, Hari._" As Hari sank down obediently, the King moved over to him and pulled his face up. After a moment's critical examination, he sighed, "_You don't have to do this, you know._"

"_I have made my choice._" Hari would not move from this place until a month had passed,

"_Marilla and Arawen visited today. They say Draco is doing very well._" He smiled at Hari's sudden interest as soon as Draco was mentioned, "_He is learning much about the elven world. I do not know why you did not teach him this before._" Hari did not answer. He did not know either. Had he taught Draco something of Valivial, he might not have been in so much danger, _Leaving a baby who cannot even walk in a dragon's den is not as criminal as this. _He bowed his head in shame. His father patted his shoulder,

"_Never mind. Listen, Hari. I want to talk to you about the choice your mother gave you._" His smile faltered a little and placed his hands on his son's head. The moonlight made his hair shine dark blue, "_We want Draco to be happy in this world but we want you to be happy too. We really want you to have a Nienna. We don't know why you are so reluctant to love someone but, now you have found someone you love, you need to hold onto them. Your mother never liked me at first, you know. She hated me but I held on. I kept trying to get her to like me and, in the end, I got what I wanted._"

"_You never had to deceive Athara, though._" Hari sighed, "_You are not as terrible as I._"

"_We don't like having to lie to Draco. I have to admit, I like him too. He'd make a fine Nienna for you. As time goes on, he'll become Elven like me. He will never die._" Hari was still silent, "_Draco is a good person deep down. He's not at all like I thought a son of Lucius Malfoy's would be like._" Still silence, "_We don't want to see you unhappy, son. If you let Draco go now, you will never know happiness for the rest of your life. I will never be happy until you are. If Draco is the one to give you happiness, then I would let him be deceived. Both of you shall be content and we will have peace of mind when we pass the crowns to you._"

Hari raised his head. His eyes were full of tears, "_Do I not also have your love?_"

"_You have my love, Uteire._" Still crying, he buried his face into his father's stomach, embracing him tightly to vainly conceal his tears.

* * *

A/N: Aw, how cute. Please review!


	15. Proposal and the Letter

A/N: Yes! More reviews! So, I hadn't done something wrong! Thank you so much!

**Lucy: **Never fear! It takes a lot to stop me writing!

**neverfall16: **Yeah, Hari has his moments.

**evildictionaryninja**: Oh, keep reading and you'll find out more about the mysterious Maederhwen!

**goonigoogoogus: **Ha ha, very funny.

**kuruma's bitches: **Glad that helped. And I hope he will too!

**Daughter.Of.Loneliness: **Really? Oh, you're too kind!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 15: Proposal and the Letter**_

Maltandir arrived the next day. He greeted Draco warmly like a favourite uncle, asked him how he was and what he had learned. After lunch, he had even had a mock sword fight with him to put him through his paces. Draco won three out of five matches and Maltandir was delighted. Maederhwen clapped and cheered while Deriyor and Gailia watched, smiling. Arawen and Marilla was astonished and ecstatic that Draco had learned so much in so little time.

Elivor sat on a windowsill, wearing a cloak around himself (though it was warm and he had clothes on underneath), looking out them. He did not move or speak but stared out at them with unnerving focus. The doors were wide open but he looked disturbingly like a prisoner in his own house. It was disturbing for Draco to feel his unflinching gaze and he lost concentration slightly. That was what made him lose the last two matches, he was sure of it.

After the competition, when him and Maltandir were wiping their foreheads with towels, he saw Elivor steal away from the window and slink away, as silently as a cat. Deriyor saw him looking and was the second to notice Elivor gone. He seemed untroubled by it, "_Not to worry, Draco. He often broods in this way after running away._" Now, Deriyor was talking casually to him in Elvish, which made Draco even more elated that he could understand it, "_Give him time. He will come round. He has always been silent for most of his life. He is the sort not to get in the way. You barely notice him there sometimes._"

"_Oh, yes_!" Gailia suddenly said, having come back from putting away the practice swords, "_Elivor told me that he will teach you the ways of magic three times a week. Meet him in his chamber after lunch._"

His stomach gave a little squirm. He dreading having to spend hours on end with Elivor, especially not after the fight. Perhaps he would scorn him like the Prince? Or perhaps something worse? He glanced again at the window where Elivor had been. Would he still bare a grudge against Draco or had his time away taken away his sourness?

It was with a nervous trepidation that accompanied him on his way to Elivor's chambers. His were right in the top floor of the building in a small tower. The roof was built so one would easily climb on it with little danger of falling. The room Draco was to be tutored was darker than the others with only a small window where the sill was perfect for sitting on. The furniture had been pushed back but all of them were heavily cushioned. Draco amused himself for a while by imagining Elivor in cat form curling up on one of them and sleeping. He wondered vaguely if he had a bed at all.

His musings were interrupted by the imminent arrival of Elivor, wearing his black clothes and cap as usual. His face was not hard but it was not inviting like Deriyor's. Without a greeting, he immediately began talking, "_You have learned some magic in your own world, have you not?_"

"_Yes._"

"_With a wand?_"

"_Yes._" Draco had the funny feeling that using wands seemed to be very basic in Elivor's eyes because his eyes grew colder when Draco answered. However, he did not mock him and simply held out a hand expectantly,

"_Let me see your wand._"

Reluctantly, Draco held it out and Elivor took it in a white-gloved hand. He gave it a little bend and examined it closely, his blue eyes roving every inch, "_Hawthorn,_" He said, after a while, "_unicorn hair, yes?_"

"_Yes._" Draco nodded, not knowing why Elivor could not have simply asked him, "_Why_?"

"_Sometimes the measure of a wizard requires looking at his wand._" Even though Draco held out his hand, Elivor did not return it, "_Do not bring it in future. You will not be needing it._"

"_What?_" Draco frowned, "_But I cannot do magic without it!_"

"_You think you cannot, you mean._" Elivor fixed him with a glare that silenced him, "_Here, you shall learn not to rely upon wands and staffs. They are what you call 'the easy way around'. Using only your body to expel magic is a dangerous and difficult task. It requires extreme discipline of the mind. If you can focus your power upon one part of your body, you can easily push it out. That is, if you are capable. Many an elf has underestimated its difficulty and it ended with disaster and death._"

Draco's hands shook a little. He never thought that magic could be so dangerous. When Elivor mentioned death, he began to fear it even more. Elivor either didn't notice or didn't care that Draco was afraid. He simply placed Draco's wand on a table behind him and held out a hand towards him. Draco gave a gasp and fell back. For he was now encased in a semi-transparent bubble, hovering a few inches off the ground. When Elivor spoke, he was still audible but his figure was slightly blurred,

"_This is for my own safety and for your own. You cannot escape from this yourself so you must use your magic._"

Draco experimentally poked the bubble and was surprised when it was as solid as rock. He had thought, with its appearance, his hand would go straight through,

"_This is especially useful for learning to control your magic. Once you have tamed it, it will serve you faithfully. But it will not be an easy thing to bend to your will. It will attempt to dissuade you from doing it by playing tricks on your mind, making hallucinations appear to distract you. You __**must **__ignore all of them. Only concentrate on pushing your magic down into your hand to disintegrate the bubble. I shall only help you by drawing you within yourself. When you are better at controlling it, you will be able to do it by yourself._"

With more misgivings than ever, Draco placed a hand upon the bubble and nodded, "_I'm ready._"

Elivor jabbed a finger with more ferocity than could be necessary. Immediately, the whole world went black. He could still feel the bubble's surface against his hand but he could not see it. Draco felt strange. His body seemed to have frozen and something hot was building in his chest. It was spreading through his body, making him sweat. It was too uncomfortable, he thought. He didn't want this.

Remembering what Elivor had said, he screwed his eyes tight shut and tried his best to push it down, to stop it from spreading into him. The heat protested angrily and Draco found it a lot hard. He pushed all his mind into stopping it but it would not obey him, _Please,_ he thought to it, _I need you to get out._ His pleas fell on deaf ears. But, then, another voice spoke,

"Draco!"

His eyes shot open and he looked up. The image of his mother stood there, just beyond his reach. But, she was not looking at him. She was kneeling and seemed to be praying. Her hands were clasped together and her eyes turned up to somewhere above her, "Mother..."

"Draco, where are you?" She was crying. Her face was shining with tears, "Why did you run away?"

She was vanishing away. Draco cried out. He didn't want her to go, "Mother! Mother, I'm here!" He stretched out his hand but only met solid material, "Mother! Mother, don't go!" He stopped trying to push his magic down and beat his fists on the wall before him, trying to get her attention as she faded away,

"_Focus_!" shouted Elivor's voice from nowhere.

The heat was increasing, becoming painful now. Draco refocused his attention onto the task at hand but now it had become even harder. In his brief lapse of concentration, the magic had taken the opportunity to spread again like a dreadful rash. And it had seized it well. He felt as though he was full of it. This was wrong, however. He wanted it to be in his arm, not everywhere.

He pushed and pushed the magic into his left arm but, just as his fingertips were cooling, another voice rose,

"Draco!" Draco tried to ignore his father's voice. He would not be fooled a second time but it was very difficult to concentrate with it shouting at him, "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you selfish little brat!"

_It's not him,_ He told himself over and over again, _It's not him you're hearing. It's just your head playing tricks on you. Father would never call me that,_

"How dare you run away from home and make your mother worry! How dare you forget us! You dare to stay there, hounding your ridiculous little fantasies, and not give a thought to your own family! Sometimes, I consider disowning you just for your lack of respect to your family! You have shamed your father and the Malfoy name!"

His face flushed and not just with the effort of keeping his magic down, _Shame to the Malfoy name?_ Was he not here, against his parents' wishes? Was he not directly disobeying his family's conduct by liking a male? Would he not be disowned and robbed of all that was due to be his? Would he not be left with nothing? And all for some stupid fantasy that the Prince would ever like him?

His doubts halted his efforts and he fell to his knees, _Is that what I am destined for? I have pursued my love for nothing. I will simply die penniless and heartbroken on the streets._ His motivation to suppress his magic was dwindling now, _Would it simply be easier to let it kill me like Elivor said?_

"DRACO!"

The voice he had dreaded battered its way into his ears. His Prince stood before him, glaring down at him, seeming twice as tall as he remembered. Draco could only grovel at his feet, tears starting in his eyes. The pain his magic was causing him was increasing. He felt as though he was slowly burning. Flames were slowly licking him. At least, before he died, he would hear the voice of the one he loved,

"You are the most pitiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon. Never for a moment were you of any use to me. I should have left for the Drows and the orcs to feast upon in this world most unworthy for your presence."

_Yes._ A tear trickled down Draco's cheek and disappeared from the burning heat of his face. The fire was burning him but he did not care, _I am unworthy. I shall die here and put an end to it._

And, then it was over. The bubble reappeared and Elivor was there in front of it, hands on hips and frowning, "_Did I not tell you to suppress it and ignore all distractions._" Draco's cheeks flushed and he hastily pushed some hair out of his eyes to conceal brushing away tears. How could he have took the visions seriously? He scowled back at Elivor as though it had been his fault. He had reprimanded Draco the first time so why did he abandon him the second and third time?

* * *

After two more tries, Draco still could not get his magic under control and the bubble remained intact. In the end, Elivor made it vanish and dismissed him. Draco left the tower room, all the exhilaration from fighting with Maltandir gone. He spoke to no one until he got into his room. When there, he sat down in front of a mirror and stared at his puffy-eyed reflection. He had seen the Prince in each effort. Both times, his cheeks had burned with shame and tears had fallen from his eyes,

_Why do I get like this?_ He wondered. For the first time, he truly tried to think why he loved the Prince. Because he was good-looking? But, beauty was only skin deep after all. And he didn't consider himself one to let looks blind him. Because he was the Prince and so charismatic? But, if it was that, was it only respect and not .love?

_What is love, anyway? How can I be sure it's what I am feeling for the Prince?_ All this time and he never considered it. He wanted to impress the Prince, he knew that, but did he want the Prince to be friends with him or did he just want him to notice him for the devoted servant he was? He glanced over at the small cheap wood cutting Maederhwen had bought for him in the market the following day. It depicted the familiar face of Meleniel with a dove flying above her.

The dream, which he thought had faded, came back with full clarity to his memory. What Meleniel had said to him...but, if she had appeared to him, did it mean that he did love the Prince? Or was she doing it to dissuade him? Did she show the image of the Prince with Nardiel simply to tell him that the Prince was a lost cause? Did she want him to love someone else?

He lowered his head and pulled his knees up to his chest. If he was not supposed to love the Prince, then why was he here? Why was he being kept here so far away from his home? _But, I've come so far. I've learnt so much from this world. Even if I am weak, mortal and plain, I have gained from being here. I have changed._ He thought of his past self that seemed closer than before but still far away. He had been a childish boy full of inherited hatreds and prejudices that seemed pointless and weak now. Now that he thought about it, most of his character had been based upon those thoughts. That was what defined him in the world in which he lived,

_But I do have bad traits I gained from this world. _He thought, suddenly, _Whenever I see the Prince, I turn into a lovesick little idiot. But, only with the Prince._ _So, is it a good thing that I have changed? Will my life be better from now on?_ _Or will it only cause problems again? I'm at risk of losing my family and my friends because of this._ He looked around at the lavish room, _But, do I want to leave? _Even though homesickness was starting to develop in his gut, a part of him still did not want to leave this beautiful word of the elves. He could stay for years before his parents noticed but the guilt of having to deceive them was catching up on him, _If I could only see him again, _He thought, _if I could see the Prince, maybe I get put this to rest and get on with my life._

His torn thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Maederhwen, Arawen and Marilla came in, with concerned expressions on their faces, "_Gailia said you seemed upset about something._" Arawen said, being the first to reach him due to her longer legs,

"_I was just thinking._" Draco sighed, dropping his legs back to the floor and looking back at the mirror, seeing the three elves around him, _I've made friends here. Many friends. And enemies._ He did not elaborate on what he was thinking, simply stared at the four reflections. His face seemed to give him away because Marilla said,

"_About the Prince?_"

"_How did you know that?_"

"_Just a guess._" She shrugged, "_When you stopped asking about him, I got a bit suspicious._"

Maederhwen frowned, "_They told me that you had feelings for Prince Hari._" She sat down on the floor before him. Even though she was not yet adult size, she had grown another year in just a day. There was a very small but definite hint of a bust which showed that her Regression was wearing off. She looked around his age now. Still, she appeared as childlike as ever when she gazed up at him, "_Ever since you got here?_"

"_Yes._" Draco nodded, dully,

Arawen sighed, "_There is no way to change your feelings, is there, Draco?_" Equally dully, he shook his head. Arawen had that same miserable face upon her that always appeared whenever the Prince, "_I know how you feel._" This statement made Draco's head jolt up. Seeing his surprise, she elaborated, "_When I was first brought to Ariador, the Queen attempted to make me a suitor to the Prince. Of course, you know what happened. Just one month and he told me he loved me not. He told me never to show my face to him and he had no time for an orphan Mountain elf._"

Her dark eyes shone like polished jet with tears. She wiped her face on her white veil and her sister put an arm around her, "_Oh, I'm sorry._" This time he said it to her, he really meant it,

"_I was so upset for I thought him wonderful. The Queen saw my distress and made me her lady-in-waiting._"

A pang of some unknown feeling stabbed at Draco. The Prince had thrown Arawen away so harshly and yet never mentioned it? Was it so normal to him that he could toss away any suitor without a care? The image of the perfect being that he'd come to associate with the Prince clouded somewhat. Arawen came out from her veil, attempting a failed smile,

"_Sorry._" She gulped, "_I shouldn't be so upset. Not after all this time._"

"_It's alright._" Draco found it strangely easy to excuse this. Wanting to get off this awkward subject, Draco cleared his throat, "_Those magic lessons are really hard._"

"_They are, aren't they?_" Strangely, it was Maederhwen who spoke this time, "_I could never get mine under control to save my life. My tutors said something about having too much anger in me._" Her hands flew to her mouth as though the words had slipped out without her consent. Arawen gave her a curious look,

"_Maederhwen, how old are you?_"

"_Eleven-hundred and thirty last month._" She said, not looking up at her. Arawen stared,

"_I've never known someone who went that long without having their powers under control._"

"_Well, it's not my fault!_" Maederhwen suddenly shouted, nearly making Draco fall off his chair from her sudden burst of ferocity, "_My tutors never gave me a bit of help! They just told me to get on with it and that 'reading would help'!_"

"_But, you cannot read, can you_?" Marilla asked, tentatively, as though afraid of her rage, "_Until recently?_"

"_I didn't learn on principle._" She said, stubbornly, staring at Marilla like a mutinous child. They were spared an argument by Gailia calling Arawen and Marilla to come into the Entrance Hall. Draco was left alone with an irritated Maederhwen. For a moment, he feared that she would turn her wrath onto him. However, she turned to him looking devoid of anger and more concerned, "_Did Elivor treat you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?_"

"_No._" Draco shook his head. Elivor hadn't harmed him in any specific way, after all. Simply sneered at him, "_But he can't be a very good teacher if I can't control my magic._"

Maederhwen nodded. Then, a serious expression appeared on her face. When she stood, she was below his height by about half a head and she still had to raise her head to look him in the face. She glared at him with a determined ferocity, as though steeling herself to say something vitally important, "Draco," The words of his own language surprised him, "the Prince will never love you. He is Calasier Avamela, the high one without love. I knew this and would not even allow him to meet me, unlike my fool of a sister."

The way she spoke shocked him. She sounded completely serious and not childlike at all. Suddenly, she grasped hold of his hands and pulled them up to shoulder height, "So, give me your hand in marriage and I will treat you much better than he ever will!" Draco was convinced he had misheard, _She didn't just ask me to marry her, did she?_ Seeing his stunned face, Maederhwen went wildly on, "I am a princess in my land. My name is Erudessa Neen'var of Alqualond and I will make you my prince!"

"I-I..." Draco was completely bewildered. It took him a little while to take it all in. This girl was a princess, or said she was, and she wanted to marry him? When he said nothing, she clasped his hands closer to her,

"Well? Will you be my _Nienna_?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer but then, his confused mind picked something out. The dream he had (was it a dream? It seemed so real) when the Prince had come and they had kissed. Immediately, his instincts kicked in, "I - no." He said, a little too bluntly than he meant it to sound. Maederhwen's face, or Erudessa's, face fell a little,

"But, Draco, the Prince cannot love you! You know it! He has thrown aside a hundred suitors and more! Why are you any different to him?"

"I-I can't." Draco shook his head, looking away from her. He had to admit that she was right but he simply could not imagine himself as Erudessa's _Nienna._ They were friends but they were not that close. He broke away and strode a few paces from him, "I mean, I don't think we're right for each other. When we first met, you always kept bursting into tears when you saw me." _Not to mention she was part of the gang that captured me._ He did not want to look at her because he knew she would be crying, "Look, me and you...it just wouldn't work. I barely know you."

"It is because of the Prince." Erudessa's voice shook, proving Draco right, "You want to be loveless like him...because of him!"

He heard her footsteps running away, leaving him to sink to his knees, his head in his hands. For the next week, he could not meet Erudessa's eye. He kept the secret of her identity but he still felt guilty. He could have been a bit nicer about refusing her. She could not meet his eye either and became less and less attached to him. If the others noticed, they did not say anything.

That incident made controlling his magic doubly difficult since Erudessa appeared to him after his father, crying profusely and begging him to marry her. He wondered if Elivor could see what he saw during those times. He hoped not. Still, he could not control it. Elivor proposed extra classes to give him practice but Draco refused point-blank. It was bad enough having to do it three times a week without extra work.

At the start the start of their fifth lesson, Elivor gave it up, saying Draco was not 'mentally prepared yet'. Instead, he set Draco work from books all in Elvish which added the task of translating it before he could get anything done. This, he felt, was marginally worse than repressing his magic. This extra workload clashed with Gailia's tasks and, this time, he had homework. He had to copy out hand movements for different spells, how to identify threatening magic and, worst of all, how best to repress it.

* * *

The month had come to close. On the dawn of the thirtieth day, Hari was given back his clothes and, by the time the sun had fully risen, he was striding up the stairs, back into the main building of Ariador. The sun shone brightly outside despite the cold chill of the air. He could not go out. Not now. He had something to do first.

He strode up the familiar steps, ignoring the glances from other elves he passed. He did not want to meet with them now. He reached Rhunithil and then, the servant's quarters. They were deserted, all of the rooms empty, _Arawen and Marilla are with him. Leonas must be with my father._ Draco's door, at the very end, was closed. That wooden barrier couldn't help but sway him a little, _Will it be there always? Are Draco and I destined to be apart?_

He crossed the corridor in long strides and gave the door a small push. It came open easily...and Hari did a double take. Where there had been the wreckage of a meagre room not fit for a peasant there was a lavish chamber befitting a servant of Ariador. Sitting on the bed, looking tired but happy, were the King and Leonas, "_Surprise!_" Jaurion grinned,

"_Uteire..._" Hari gasped, taking a few steps into the room so as to get a better look, "..._you..._"

"_Draco deserves a change._" The King stood and up and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, "_And, it'll save you a job._"

Hari bowed his head as though weary, "_I thank you, Uteire._" Jaurion raised his eyebrows,

"_Well, prison has changed you. I never used to get thanks like this._"

"_Pray you, Uteire, I will retire to my chamber awhile and I must demand no disturbance._"

"_Now, that's more like the son I know._"

Ignoring his father, he turned on his heel and strode out, _Well, that did save me a job. _He entered his chamber that, despite being scant in possessions (as it always was), was still tidy and free of dust. Not that he expected the servants to keep it too tidy. He sat at his desk, pulled a roll of paper and feather quill towards him. He dipped the point into a fresh bottle of ink and began to write.

After a few words, however, he gave up, crumpled up the ruined letter and threw it away. He began a second, than third. He clutched his head in frustration, _How can I write to him and proclaim what I feel in a mere letter?_ After a while, his father appeared in the doorway,

"_What are you doing, son?_"

"_I asked for no disturbance._" His annoyance could not help but make him snap at his father. However, Jaurion looked over his shoulder and looked at the fourth attempt,

"_Ah, there's no point doing that. Ask to meet him somewhere, that's better._"

"_Uteire!_" This prospect was positively alarming, "_I can barely write what I feel, let alone speak it!_"

"_Oh, you never know. It might help._" With a little cryptic wink, his father departed. After a confused silence, Hari crumpled the paper and, inspired anew, began the fifth.

* * *

A/N: Ooh, the climax is drawing ever near!


	16. The Last Day

A/N: No, this isn't the last chapter. But the end is nigh! The next chapter will be the end for now so keep reviewing to make it happen quicker!

**sweetypie2712: **Well, I hope you didn't wait too long!

**Daughters.Of.Loneliness:** Really? Wow...Well, I hope you didn't injure yourself when you found out I've updated this time!

**evildictionaryninja: **Yeah, secrecy is a big theme in this story, isn't it. And, you'd think he'd have time to think over what to say too. But he was too busy moping, I think.

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 16: The Last Day**_

The start of a new month brought better weather and also a visit from Leonas. He greeted Draco more warmly than Maltandir and shook Deriyor's hand, to whom he seemed to be on very good terms with. Draco wasn't surprised; they were very alike, "_My goodness, Draco!_" He had said, "_You have changed for the better!_" Indeed, Leonas was almost his height when once he was a full head over, "_I do believe you are one step on the side of becoming an elf._"

This thought astonished Draco but in a good way. But, what Draco wanted to do was get him alone. There was something he had to ask him about. His chance came after lunch when Leonas said he wanted to do some sparring with Draco, "_Leonas!_" Draco called, when they had finished. Draco, again, had succeeded him three to two out five. Again, Elivor had watched them beadily,

"_You can't want a rematch, Draco! You won!_" He laughed, teasingly. Draco too had to laugh. The last match had ended with Draco beating Leonas in only two minutes,

"_No, it's not that. It's just,_" He glanced over his shoulder to check that Elivor wasn't watching, "_when you're in Numeranor, do the spirits of the dead kings and queens speak to you?_"

Leonas beamed, delighted, as he did whenever death was mentioned, "_Oh yes! I sleep there sometimes and they come to me in dreams. They show me their memories and they become as clear to me after as my own. Did they speak to you when you were there?_"

"_Yes._" Draco nodded, remembering the Guard of the Gate and the Kings and Queens, "_They were very wise._"

"_Oh, they are. They visit their tombs at a time of night when time slows for them and those sleeping among them will dream of them._"  
"_Dream of them?_"

"_Well, I would not call them dreams. Those who watch me speak to them say that I sleepwalk with my eyes open and speak to those only I can see._"

"_Oh._" was all Draco could say,

"_That does not mean they cannot go outside the tombs._" Leonas added, "_I believe they always watch us. They always know what is going on in the living world. It was they that came to me in a dream to warn me of your imprisonment there. That was how I first came to see them actually._" Draco looked up, puzzled, "_The King flew into a rage when he was Prince and Prince Hari was a mere child. He locked me in Numeranor. At first, I was frightened of the statues and of his wrath. But, the spirits comforted me and I believe they visited my master in a dream to invoke his conscience. He let me out the next day, saying that he was truly sorry. But I was not unhappy to go from that place._"

He smiled encouragingly at Draco, who began to see Leonas in a whole new light. Then, suddenly, Gailia's voice called him in, saying that he had a lesson with Elivor, "_Sorry, Leonas! See you!_"

* * *

Draco was more thankful to get out of Elivor's tower this time than he ever was. Not only was the lesson tedious and mind-numbing as usual but something else had happened to make him want to leave as quickly as possible. After he had closed the door, Erudessa had appeared. She had fully lost her Regression now and was now an adult elf. Without a word to him, however, she pulled the door open again and went in.

Bewildered by this strange action (after all, he thought she and Elivor had a mutual hatred for each other), Draco had done something he would live to regret. He peered through the door which Erudessa had left ajar. Elivor looked neither angry nor displeased by her presence. In fact, he had stood and gave a small bow. They had spoken in Elvish, drawing ever closer. He thought he had picked out his name once or twice. He wondered if Elivor was saying how useless he was but he couldn't hear it clearly.

Then, Erudessa had grown angry at what he said, drew back her hand and slapped him hard around the face. Now she was bigger, she had shown a more fierce temper than any of them could have guessed. Elivor had scowled at her but, then, Erudessa had put her hand gently upon his face. Draco had stared. _Why was she being so gentle with him after she had slapped him? _He had thought.

The words she had spoken in Elvish were soft and Draco had no luck making them out. Then, Elivor had looked up at her with a new look in his eys. They had looked softer and gentler than Draco had ever seen them. That expression had looked so out of place that he had wondered whether it was really Elivor at all and if it was some imposter in disguise.

Then, the worst had happened. They had stood up and leaned together. They had been too close all too quickly and Draco had no time to look away before their lips met.

When they had done so, Draco had come to himself, took to his heels and ran. He could not bare to see it. He only stopped when he reached the safety of his room. He did not know why he felt like he did. After all, he had no reason to. He had told Erudessa that he did not love her and that was that. Still, he felt _cheated_. She had only proposed to him two weeks ago and yet, there she was, kissing her worst enemy.

Was she like the Prince, then? Was it a tradition among princes and princesses to shun lover and lover until they finally married out of money more than anything else? _Well,_ he thought, as he sat on his bed concealed by the hangings, _in this case, it's the lover shunning the princess._ Did she have a history of potential _Niennas_ throwing her away? Was she so used to it now that she wasted no time in looking for the next one without dissolving into a wreck for days?

Anger began to well in his chest, _How could she kiss Elivor? How could she? If she loved me, why did she go after the person who hates me?_ His mental image of Erudessa distorted into an ugly, demon-like creature. She was not like the Prince. The Prince was more merciful. He made a clean break of it and made no other hateful actions towards them. Erudessa, however, left her lovers teetering and tortured them by making them watch her love another.

_Well,_ he corrected himself, _I am not her lover so why should I care? If she wants to devote her life to someone she pretends to love, then why should I care?_ Yes, that was it. She only pretended to love him. Perhaps she had even known Draco was watching and had done it simply to make him jealous, _Well, it won't work._ Draco decided, firmly, swinging himself off the bed, _No. Whatever trick she plays on me, it won't work. She won't force me into marrying her._

But, why, though? Why did he refuse? He knew as well as anyone that the Prince was loveless. He could love no one so why was he saving himself for something that would never happen? With a heavy sigh, he slumped into his chair, covering his face with his hand, _Why me? What did I do to deserve this torture? _He glanced out of the window.

Valivial in spring was beautiful. Having only saw it in winter, the effect spring had upon the land was astonishing to him. The trees celebrated with blossoms the like of which Draco had never seen. Every morning, he would find petals sticking to his window, hanging on by droplets of water from a warm shower before. Even the rain was gentler than in the human world. It was the sort of rain that you would be glad to be soaked in, warm and unintrusive. Indeed, he had never seen an elf carrying an umbrella.

The trees around Maltandir's home were not growing green but blossoming. Not just in pink but blue, purple and white. The wind always happened to carry some of them all around. Looking up, he saw a strange golden flower stuck to his window. Absently, he stood up, opened it and gently prised it off the glass. It was so fragile that it could have been carried away by a stray breeze. It was whole, five petals all intact in its flower. And, all of them were pale gold, shining with dew.

Closing the window, he took it to his desk to examine it. He barely had any time since Gailia appeared at the door, "_Hello, Draco_." She smiled. Her arms carried a basket full of those petals and flowers, "_I was just gathering the ones that fell in our grounds. The petals are good fortune, gifts from the deity of spring. You should always gather each one of them and keep them all spring to preserve that good fortune. Never let them escape for the gift of the deity will escape with them. Then, in the summer, you give them to the winds._"

"_Well, there's some on my window there._" Draco pointed to it. Gailia set about collecting them so Draco had to collect the flower in his hands to stop him losing it. He felt somewhat attached to the small thing. If what Gailia said was true, maybe some of its luck would rub off on him. He could certainly do with some luck in Valivial. Gailia closed the window but not without letting a draught slip through her hands. The flower blew out of his hands and onto the floor. Gailia saw him stoop to pick it up,

"_What is it, Draco?_" When Draco reluctantly showed her, she gasped, "_A golden one!_"

"_Are they special?_"

"_Oh yes. Only one golden flower is produced in every tree. These rarities are the best of all. They are the best blessing the deities can give you. Where did you find it?_"

"_On my window._" Draco couldn't help but feel exhilarated by this,

"_Then, it is yours. And, leave the window open, Draco. You don't want to shut out of the deities._" She crossed over to it and opened it again, "_Those golden flowers are special, Draco. While other petals wither and age, they will be ever-lasting. It is yours forever and you must never lose it, lest you lose the favour of the deities. Here._" She waved her hands, tracing a circle, and, out of thin air, a golden chain appeared with a transparent crystal hanging from it. Then, she gently took the flower and seemed to place it inside. Then, she slipped it over his head and around his neck, "_Now, it is yours._"

* * *

The Prince felt restless. It was hours before it was time to meet him. Had he ever received the letter yet? It had only been ten minutes since it was sent, _No, not ten minutes. It cannot be that short a time._ Still, the clock face lazily showed that time. The blossom petals blew in the wind, some spraying themselves upon his balcony.

He paid no heed to them. If the deities were blessing him, then they would simply give him good fortune in itself. not gifts of it, _I shall only gather them if a golden one comes to me. _He made the silent promise to himself. He knew that a golden flower coming to him was unlikely to the extreme. He was high above the trees and no wind blew directly up there. It would be a long way to go for a delicate golden flower and it would be a pointless journey,

_They are the highest blessing from the spring deity. She will never give a rogue and low slave as I that honour. I am a poor elf in the eyes of the deities, weak and unprofitable._ He gazed out over the trees. Maltandir's house was a short way from Ariador but he would be meeting Draco in a different place. Still, he could not think what to say to him when he saw him.

Sighing, he retreated into his chamber and closed the doors to the balcony. He sat down in a chair, his hair hanging around his face like curtains as he lowered it. Something golden appeared out of the corner of his eyes. Looking round, he spotted something caught in his hair. He slowly raised his hand and felt something cool and smooth. Very carefully, he closed his fingers around it and removed it.

Hardly daring to believe, he unfurled his fingers. His gasp was so sharp that it nearly made him lose it. A golden blossom, all five petals intact, _Deities be praised!_ Hurriedly, he conjured up a chain and sealed the flower within crystal. He did not want to lose such a precious gift.

* * *

The afternoon wore on and Draco was roused from his reverie of thought by the sound of hoofbeats outside. Puzzled, he looked out of his window and, with a jolt, saw one of the royal carriages. Without a moment's hesitiation, he hurtled through the door and down the stairs. _The Prince is here? With no warning? _Panic and butterflies were rioting in his stomach. He was not ready to face him and yet his feet carried him all the way to the entrance hall.

When he got down to the entrance hall however, it was not the Prince that Gailia was greeting. The royal carriage did not have the golden tree with the familiar four stars on the doors. Instead. it had two strings of water crashing into one another on both ends to form a circle around a white water lily. Though it was distinctly a royal carriage, it was decorated with silver, not gold and different designs swirled around the edges.

The woman with Gailia looked up and her achingly familiar face lit up with joy, "_Draco!_"

Draco hastened to bow before Queen Mirima, "_You Highness! I am pleased to see you._"

"_Oh? You speak our tongue now?_" This seemed to please her all the more, "_That is good. Alqualond does not practise human language as much as Valivial and my daughters know very little of it._" She turned to the carriage, where another elf was getting out, "_My eldest, Princess Veriel._" This elf was blond too, the exact same shade of hair as her mother's. She surprised Draco since she was the only elf he had ever seen wearing make-up. Her lips were enhanced with red and her eyelids showed the briefest hint of pale blue when she blinked. She also seemed overdressed; she was the only one still wearing a fur coat,

Draco bowed to her regardless and then, Mirima cleared her throat, "_Lady Moorefield, where is Maltandir? I must speak with him._" It was strange to hear Gailia addressed like that since Draco had only ever called her by her first name and had forgotten that she was a noble in Valivial,

"_I am afraid he is not here. What errand do you wish to set upon him?_"

"_The issue of my younger daughter, Erudessa._" Draco only just managed to stop himself reacting to the name, _Erudessa was the Princess of Alqualond?_ "_The search for her has gone on far too long. We know now that she is not in Alqualond. We request the Nimohtar of Valivial to search for her._"

Veriel looked as though she would much rather not be here but she held her tongue. Draco was torn; Erudessa had told him in confidence that she'd had an argument with her mother before fleeing home. Now she was here, should he tell Mirima? But, he had kept the secret until now...

But, then, Erudessa made that decision for him. There was a soft sound of footsteps behind them. Looking around, Draco saw Erudessa coming down the stairs, wearing a different dress from before that looked fit for travelling. With her was Elivor and, surprisingly, Marilla, _Has Marilla taken her into friendship too?_ Bitterness entered into his thoughts. He could not help but still feel that Erudessa had betrayed him,

"_I am here, Athara._"

Queen Mirima's mouth opened in surprise. Veriel's eyes widened, more of the pale blue eyeshadow vanishing. It was Mirima who made a move first. She took a few steps forward as though in a trance and then, her shout cut across the hall like a flying spear, "_HOW DARE YOU RUN AWAY FROM OUR PALACE! YOU HAVE SHAMED YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR NAME!_" She pulled a large chunk of honey-coloured hair from nowhere and shook it before her, "_YOU CUT YOUR TIES FROM US IN PUBLIC AND YOU DARE TO SHOW YOUR FACE UNFLINCHINGLY AS THOUGH YOU ARE INNOCENT OF ANY CRIME._"

Others would have flinched or more sensitive people would have burst into tears at the sound of her shouting. Indeed, Draco wished such an expression of fury would never appear upon his mother's face. Erudessa, however, stood stock still, like a stone wall against the assault. Her expression did not alter, though Marilla looked frightened that the anger would turn upon her. Elivor placed a hand on Erudessa's shoulder almost protectively.

Gailia and a newly appeared Deriyor were completely bewildered. They looked between Mirima and Erudessa then back again. Erudessa sighed, "_Athara, I wish to return to our palace._"

"_YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL IF I EVER ALLOW YOU INTO ALQUALOND AGAIN!_"

This time, Erudessa scowled and rose her voice to an even louder shout than her mother's, "_**I HAVE COME BEFORE YOU OUT OF GOOD WILL AND YOU SHOUT ME DOWN FOR IT! LISTEN TO ME, ATHARA, AND YOU, SISTER! I COME TO SPEAK WITH YOU PEACIBLY, NOT TO FIGHT!**_"

Mirima seemed to calm and said, "_Alright. We will hear you._"

Erudessa pushed back her hair and lowered her voice to normal volume, "_Athara, when I left our palace,_" Veriel gave a disapproving little sniff at the word 'our', "_I became involved in the Fanka Gang to satisfy my rebellion..._"

"_Impossible._" Mirima said, immediately, and her voice was sharp as she glared at Erudessa, "_The Fanka Gang were all males and they were murdered by the Prince of Valivial._" Draco felt a little twinge at the mention of the Prince,

"_They took me anyway._" Erudessa went on, stubbornly ignoring her sister, "_And I survived the massecre by hiding. I Regressed and lost my voice from the trauma and fled. I was pursued by Wargs when I met Deriyor, Elivor and Draco._" Mirima's head jerked momentarily to Draco, who nodded in confirmation, "_In time, I gained my voice and my Regression wore off. Now, I am ready to return home._"

Mirima glared at her daughter, Veriel glaring at Elivor and Marilla. She had been silent throughout this and now, she tugged at her mother's elbow. When Mirima leaned forward, she whispered something in her ear. Mirima nodded and turned to Erudessa, "_Veriel wishes to know who are those two that accompany you._"

"_As you know,_" Erudessa seemed to have prepared for this question for she answered without missing a beat, "_I have rejected all offers for ladies-in-waiting and Niennas. Now, I have decided to make Marilla Rusva, sister to Arawen Rusva who is the serving lady of the Valivial queen, my lady-in-waiting._" Draco's eyes widened. Marilla had never mentioned this to him before, nor even showed any signs of being friends with her, "_And, Elivor, son of Lord Moorefield, shall be my Nienna._"

Gailia and Deriyor actually jumped back at this. Elivor, too, looked a little surprised but pleasantly so. Obviously, none of them had been told this. Veriel's eyes looked as though they were in danger off popping out while Mirima pulled a face of shock. Erudessa delved into the pocket of her dress and held out a small box, "_My first gift to you, Nienna._" Elivor took it in his thin hands and opened the small thing.

After dipping his fingers into it, he picked out a white ribbon, "_There._" She said, "_Now you don't have to wear that stupid cap around the place._" With that, she grabbed hold of the tight hat and pulled it free. Long black shiny hair tumbled from it, falling nearly to his knees. Draco blinked in surprise. He'd never expected Elivor to have that amount of hair, _No wonder he keeps it in a cap._

Slightly bewildered, Elivor slowed moved the ribbon to tie around his hair in a low ponytail. Erudessa nodded, happily, "_That's much better!_" She turned to her mother, "_Mother, I do not want the name of Erudessa now. I shall be called Maederhwen from this day._" She said this with such conviction that no one seemed to object. Veriel looked scandalised. She tugged at her mother's elbow again and whispered something to her. She seemed unable to speak for herself so Mirima relayed the question,

"_Veriel wants to know whether Elivor has your consent to marry._"

"_You may tell your daughter, Your Highness,_" Elivor said, with barely disguised annoyance, "_that she has my full consent._"

Erudessa, or Maederhwen as she was again, laughed, "_Jealous, sister? Perhaps you cannot find a Nienna because Athara always speaks for you and everyone knows how ugly you are under all that make-up._" Veriel gasped and flinched. Draco thought this a harsh way to speak to her sister but then he remembered that he had no siblings so he wasn't one to judge. Mirima scowled but her speech was cut off by the approaching hoofbeats of another carriage. Draco peered around the Mirima's carriage to see what it was...and his heart skipped a beat.

This was definitely the Prince's carriage. The silvery Helin was pulling it and the golden tree and stars were there, _The Prince is here._ The others looked around to see what was going on and they too stared. Veriel even ducked behind her mother as though frightened and Draco remembered that Maederhwen had hinted of her affair with the Prince. Lengthy seconds passed but the door did not open. Maederhwen got fed up of waiting and flung the door open.

Nothing happened. No one was there. Maederhwen even hopped inside and came out, bewildered, "_There's no one there. Just this._" She held out a scroll with a golden crest hanging from the deep green wax seal. Mirima seemed to understand this,

"_Green for the Prince._" She said, knowledgeably.

Panic began to build in Draco again. What if the Prince had attempted to come here but was ambushed? Even though there was no destruction inside, Draco couldn't help but fear the worst. It was fast becoming a reflex for him in this world. Maederhwen broke the seal and unrolled it a little. Her eyew widened, "_It's for you, Draco._"  
Again, his stomach seemed to do a backflip. With shaking hands, he took the scroll and unfurled it. The letter was fairly short but it was enough to make his insides riot,

_Draco,_

_As a result of several crucially important matters that had to be attended to, my correspondence with you has been impossible until now. You have no doubt enjoyed your companionship with Lord Moorefield and his family but now, you must return to your duties as a servant of the Prince._

_Before you return to Ariador, however, I request your time this day so that we may talk frankly about your employment with me. I have provided my carriage with Helin to transport you to a secure and secret place. I shall be waiting for you there. Do not fail this meeting._

_Signed,_

_The Prince of Valivial,_

_Hari Valadhiel_

After reading and rereading the letter several times to make sure he understood what was there, he relayed the information back to the others there,

"_Don't go!_" Maederhwen said, at once, "_He'll only hurt you again!_"

"_He will not blame you for failing the meeting._" Mirima added,

"_Pretend to be ill. I shall cover for you._" Deriyor put in.

A sudden noise made them all look around. Veriel had moved away from her mother and pushed back her hood a little. Her hair was long and twisted into two thin strands that hung down her shoulders, "_I have courted the Prince once._" She said, in a hushed milky sort of voice, "_If you feel for him as much as Athara has told me, this is his summons for his dismissal of you. He will have found out and will break your heart._"

But, Draco surprised them all by opening the carriage door and pulling himself inside. Helin started immediately as soon as Draco had closed the door so he only had a chance to wave a farewell to them all before the horse picked up speed and carried him away. Maederhwen tried to run after them but it was no use. She could not outstrip the royal carriage.

Draco knew that this was his chance. This was his chance to put this to rest. Whether the Prince would keep him or reject him, whether he knew of Draco's love or not; it would all be decided today. His insides were more active than ever, his heart pounding completely out-of-control. He clenched his fists, knowing he had to be strong. He could not go to pieces just from seeing the Prince after so long. He clutched his golden flower encased in crystal, _Maybe this was sent for a reason. Maybe it won't be so bad._

Being in this carriage always made Draco anxious but the absence of his Prince made him even more so. He would be seeing him soon. In a few minutes or an hour. It turned out to be just a few minutes. Helin slowed to a stop and Draco slid out. Marble walls covered in bluish-green ivy stood in front of him and open golden gates stood a little way to his left.

When he entered, he gasped. The whole place seemed to be a garden of trees, all a-blossom with the familiar blues, pinks and whites, _No golden ones though. _He thought, _I wonder if mine came from here._ The trees parted in a grass path, clearly showing a marble platform, about ten foot high, in what looked like the centre of the place. Steps led up to its top, where what looked like a sort of tent was situated. Except the roof and poles were rooted firmly in the marble, wooden and intricately carved with doves and flowers. Even a few white doves settled upon the roof. Between the poles hung very thin material, semi-transparent...and showing a figure within.

His insides seemed to disappear. He knew who it was. Draco's feet carried him down the path scattered with petals and up the marble steps. The hangings of silk before him rippled in a warm breeze. He took a deep breath, pushed back his hair...and slid his hand through the silk, admitting himself into the place.

He had forgotten how beautiful the Prince was. His hair was sleek and sparkling, as though it had caught a thousand stars in their time apart. His face, pale as snow, was the same; perfect and unblemished. His clothes were rich but sparse due to the warm weather and, what surprised him most, was the same golden flower around his neck, encased in crystal like his.

* * *

Hari had been waiting for hours on top of the marble platform. His heart pounded and his breathing rapidly increased as he heard the carriage approach, _He comes. He comes at last._ He could do nothing but stand and wait while his insides romped without restraint within him. Then, the hangings parted. He had to fight to keep his face impassive. For Draco had become, if possible, even more beautiful than before. He had been immersing himself in Elven learning, he could see. As a result, he looked more Elven than human. His hair had grown and lightly dusted his shoulders. His skin shone in the filtered light, glittering as though a thousand stars had decided to settle there. His eyes seemed deeper and had none of the naive charm of before.

They gazed at each other for a long time.

* * *

A/N: Oooh! Aren't I wicked? A cliffhanger! Now, the end draws near. The next chapter will be the last and the big climax shall come then! Until next time!


	17. Flowers in the Wind

A/N: This is IT! The last chapter! The thrilling conclusion of Calasier Avamela! I have tortured you for 16 chapters and now, all shall be revealed.

I don't think I've ever thanked all those who've supported me with their reviews, story alerts and story favourites. Without you, I would have never took it this far and will never plan to take it further still.

So, since I can't be bothered to list you all, a big thanks to the 27 people who put this on their favourites, the 50 people who put this on Story Alert, the 4 people who added this to their C2s and the people who gave me the 83 reviews I have now.

Now, the last chapter of my much-loved fanfiction!

* * *

_**Calasier Avamela**_

_**Chapter 17: Flowers in the Wind**_

Draco made a move first. He took a step forward and bowed, "_I am pleased to see you again, Your Majesty._" He made sure to get the pronunciation right since he was sure the Prince would be wary of any error. However, the Prince simply replied in English,

"Speak in your own tongue while speaking to me, Draco."

Draco didn't know what to make of it. Did the Prince think his Elvish so poor that he didn't want to hear it? But, unusually, there was no trace of contempt in his face or voice, _Strange._ The Prince strode over to a gap in the silk which substituted for a window looking out over the flowering trees. Now he was closer, Draco thought he looked a little ill. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his skin was, if possible, a shade paler. He swallowed and bravely asked,

"Your Majesty, have you been ill?"

The Prince looked around, an eyebrow raised, "In a sense, yes. Come." He beckoned with a finger for Draco to stand with him. Swallowing again, he obeyed. He felt like something was being held back about him. A feeling that was mutual between them, "Do you know what this place is?"

"No." Draco shook his head,

"It is Lotele, the fountain of flowers. When spring comes, the petals are carried by the wind all over the land like water from a fountain. Or, it is said." He turned his eyes upon Draco. Even his eyes, though beautiful and shimmering, were different. In a way he could not express. What shocked Draco was the fact that he was able to stand normally before his gaze now. Those heavenly orbs used to make his knees knock and his voice stammer but now, he was before them, so close that he could touch that porcelain face, but he did not so much as tremble, "What do you think, Draco?" Even his voice, though as lyrical as ever, did not impact him as ever, "You seem different in your actions."

"I have changed, Your Majesty." Draco said, baffling himself with no shake in his speech, "I do not look at things the same way." That was true. He had learned so much of Elven ways that he had taken some of them on himself. Perhaps it was the feeling that he was more involved in elves and their traditions that made him less affected by the Prince's presence. Perhaps it was just elves in general that astounded him. But, now was not the time to ponder this, "You seem changed too, Your Majesty."

"I am." The Prince nodded, _Why is he not scorning me?_ "I have not been as busy as you have been led to believe. That is what I ordered to be given to you." Draco looked round, interested, "In truth, I fled Ariador after your imprisonment," Draco bit his tongue at the lack of emotion in his voice, "remained away for ten days and then, I was imprisoned for the past month for murder in an ally country."

A gasp burst from Draco's mouth. All that time he had thought he was alright and he was in prison! Why hadn't Marilla or Arawen told him this? Even Leonas had not mentioned it, _What is going on?_ "I did not know that, Your Majesty."

"Of course you did not." The Prince said, some of his old scorn in his voice, "Did I not say that I gave orders not to let you know?"

Feelings Draco had not felt in a long time now rose to the surface with frightening lucidity. He felt insulted, _How dare he say that after I worried about him!_ He momentarily forgot who was in front of him to indulge in a moment of anger, _After all my service, all the stupid things I did for him, he still feels the need to look down upon me._ That moment grew longer until it started to cloud his judgment. When the Prince spoke again, Draco had forgotten who he was speaking to,

"What is this 'Your Majesty', Draco? You have always addressed me as 'My Prince' or 'Sire' until now."

"Would you prefer it, _Sire_?" Draco half-sneered. He still could not muster enough anger to fully sneer like he used. The Prince actually started at this behaviour, his eyes widening a little,

"What means this?" His voice was sharp, "This behaviour does not befit a servant of mine nor does it befit you. Draco, do you remember whom you address?"

"Yes." Draco said, mutinously, glaring full on in that pale face. In that brief lapse, resentment and rage that he never knew he had boiled within him. He could not say that he hated the Prince, he could never do that, but Draco no longer saw him as the most perfect and beautiful thing in the world. The Prince had given him nothing but contempt and unfair treatment ever since they met; he saw it all now. He had done nothing to deserve it yet that was what he received,

"Good." With a sideways glance at Draco, the Prince returned his gaze to the window, "We are here to discuss your employment with me after all. You would not want to displease me if you wanted to stay."

"Never entered my mind." Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm and he followed the Prince's gaze over the trees. He did not know why he felt like this but he could not turn back. He could not get rid of this resentment that now coursed through him, poisoning his perfect image of the Prince. The Prince did not answer this but he could feel his displeased gaze upon him. A strong gust of wind ripped through the place, tearing a thousand petals from their branches. They whirled a terrible, frenzied dance in the air and then scattered, spirited away by the merciless currents of air,

"A servant should be faithful and unwavering to his master." The Prince went on, "There should be no hatred between them. You, however, seem to harbour some unknown bitterness for me."

"You don't know..." Draco growled, his knuckles white and his nails digging into his palms. Rage was possessing him fully now. He could not believe the Prince's ignorance, _He put me through all that and he doesn't even think it's worthy of my anger, _"...you really don't know..." He glared up at the Prince. Now, the searching look inspired new rage within him, "...You think that because I am mortal..." His voice was rising to a shout now. All of the anger he never knew he had was bursting from him, an uncontrollable flow of irresistible rage, "...and because I am weak that I-I HAVE NO FEELINGS?"

"What?" The Prince looked shaken; he had not expected this. That shocked expression incited more of the same fire within him, "What means this outburst?"

"I HAVE AS MUCH HEART AS ANY ELF HERE!" Draco screamed. The petals in the air burst through the window, some of them hitting the two of them in the face, "TOO MUCH, I'D SAY!"

"Draco!" The Prince seemed strangely distressed by Draco's shouting. He took hold of his upper arms hard, "Contain yourself! Tell me why you are like this."

The moment the Prince touched him, a fierce internal battle waged within Draco,

_He's close enough! Kiss him!_

What? He will be so angry!

_It doesn't matter! Just kiss him!_

In the end, instinct took over him completely. Less than ten seconds passed then, Draco lost himself completely.

He launched himself forward, grabbed the Prince's face and forced it into his own. Their lips crashed together, right on target. And it felt fantastic. The Prince was warm against him and it lasted longer than he had ever expected. His body writhed with pleasure against the Prince and his arms curled around His neck, his fingers immersed in that silky hair.

It had happened so suddenly that neither of them knew quite what was happening. Draco's heart was pounding within him more than ever. Or was that the Prince's heartbeat? It was impossible to tell. He desperately pushed into the other, tightening his grip more and more as the seconds flew by. All anger had dissipated. All he wanted was remain there with Him. His eyes were closed, he did not need sight, and all senses seemed closed so as to allow more and more pleasure enter him without interference.

Another thrill went up his spine when the Prince wrapped His arms around Draco's waist, His soft hands laid upon Draco's back. An involuntary groan of pleasure issued from his throat. Or what it the Prince's throat? That feeling increased as he felt the Prince not only staying but kissing him back. The two of them seemed no longer Draco and the Prince. Just one creature, connected by their love, that radiated in their chests almost to burning point.

But, it still wasn't enough. Draco wanted more. He pushed himself more and more into the Prince. He wanted that perfect warmth to be inside him to surround him. He felt the Prince take a little step back to keep his balance and he, in turn, took a step forward. He would not allow Him to go. Suddenly, air became a hindrance. Its demand rose quickly in his chest but he tried to ignore it as much as he could. He did not want to lose this feeling. But his lungs were near bursting point and, in the end, his body drew itself away as quickly as it had plunged in.

He was left panting and torn. He wanted to have stayed in the Prince's arms longer and the warmth of His body was beginning to fade. The dream was ending. The Prince staggered a little, staring at him with wide eyes, "D-Draco..." He gasped, delicately touching His lips where Draco's had once been, "...you..."

"I love you!" The words had burst from him again without his consent. The Prince seemed staggered even more by this. He actually took a step back but said nothing. He stared at Draco as though He had never seen anything like him. Anger returned, "Don't you understand that? I love you!" Humiliation burned within him now. He had just unleashed his biggest secret and all the Prince was doing was standing like a shocked statue, "Don't you even know what love is?"

"I-Draco..." The Prince was stammering worse than ever, "...you..."

But now rage was getting a better grip on him than before. His hands bunched into fists again and he raised them ready, "Tell me this one thing. Did you treat me the way you did because I was human or did you treat all of your servants like that? Eh?" He snapped, ferociously when He hesitated. Staggering worse than ever, the Prince held up his hands like a surrender,

"Now, hear me, Draco...I did not treat you like I did the others..."

That was enough. That was all Draco needed. He shot forward right at the Prince and collided with him. But he was not kissing him now. Now, his fists were pummeling every inch of the Prince he could find, _How dare he, how dare he treat me like that and still be ignorant!_ The force of the blow forced the Prince back so he teetered on the edge of falling down the steps on the opposite side of where Draco had first come, _All that time, all that effort, all that wasted love and for this!_

The Prince held him back as best He could but His thin body could not do much against Draco's berserk onslaught. He did not fight back, just tried to push him away. Everything the Prince did made Draco angry now. He was not fighting because He thought Draco was weak. He had only kissed him back just to draw him in and hurt him again. He had only kept him as His servant to make him suffer. It all made sense to him now. The Prince's was a fatal beauty. Why so many had been heartbroken by Him. He liked to see people suffer. He had made Draco suffer but no more.

Draco thoughtlessly kicked him in the shins, making him topple. The both of them bounced down the steps, alternating which one took the blow on their backs. They landed in a tangle of limbs at the bottom, hitting a low branch on the way down. Petals cascaded over them but they flew loose as Draco's fists flew back to fire another blow. He was on top of him now. The Prince had nowhere to run to. He was pinned down by Draco's weight.

Now, He was attempting to take hold of his wrists. It was only when he was wrestling Him when he noticed two things. One; tears were falling thick and fast from his eyes. Two; the Prince was saying, "Draco, hear me!" over and over again. But he would not hear him. He would not allow himself to be poisoned by his words. No more...no more...

His hand suddenly found something in the Prince's belt. A knife. He grabbed the hilt eagerly and held it up to the Prince's throat. The place fell silent. An ominous still followed, broken only by the madly-swirling petals in the air. The Prince looked up at him with no anger or fear. He simply looked at him, like a marble statue. A trickle of blood oozed from a cut on his lip,

"You will kill me, Draco? Your own love?" His voice was quiet and his eyes, one badly bruised, gazed up at him calmly. This threw oil on the fire within Draco. How could he not show any emotion when he's about to die?

"It would be for the greater good." Draco snarled, though the knife quivered in his grip, "It would stop you breaking more hearts."

"But, you would be put to death for killing me." The Prince answered, calmly. Draco growled,

"I don't care. In fact," He added, with a psychotic little giggle, "I might just kill myself. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Kill you then kill myself! You'll go to Hell and I'll stay as a ghost!"

"Draco." The Prince attempted to sit up but Draco slammed Him down again, "Hear me."

"I WILL NOT!" Draco shouted, raising the dagger as far as his arm would allow, "I'LL NEVER HEAR YOU AGAIN! YOU SHALL DIE HERE!"

The Prince only gave him a cryptic smile and closed his eyes, "So be it."

Draco snarled in his throat. That terrible, pale, beautiful face would soon be twisted in pain and smeared with blood. Draco mustered up all his hatred...but there was none. He could not hate the Prince. He was angered by Him, yes, but he could not hate Him. The crystal pendant slipped out from beneath Draco's clothes and clicked against the Prince's. The identical golden flowers glistened in the sun overhead.

The knife slipped from his hand, just beside the Prince. His raised hand shook and then lowered. The Prince opened his eyes and surveyed him, "Can you not do it?" He asked,

"Shut up." Draco hissed. He could not bare to look into that calm face. He couldn't do it. He could not kill the Prince. In an attempt to conceal his tears, he bowed his head so he was staring at the Prince's chest, "No matter what you do...no matter how much I'm hurt...I can't hate you...I can't kill you..." Silence. The Prince put his head to one side, as though trying to understand something. Draco's sobs shook his body and tears dripped onto the Prince's clothes, "...but, I know...I know we can't...you can never..." His shaking hand found the hilt of the knife again. One thing had fixed in his mind now, "...I can't live...without you...so, I'll..." The point touched his heart.

It happened so fast that Draco, at first, did not know what had happened. He only knew a sharp pain in his hand and a strong force throwing his arm out to the side. The dagger flew out of it and rolled away across the grass, soon to be covered with petals. Draco stared after it and at his hand. The skin started to redden where he had been hit.

A white hand curled around it and he felt an arm around his waist. Before he had time to realise what was going on, he was being pulled down into the warmth of the Prince again.

* * *

Hari saw the dagger pointed at Draco's heart and a flurry of panic entered him. Quickly, he retracted a hand and smacked Draco's as hard as he could. The dagger flew away into the air, Draco's eyes following it. His empty hand opened an opportunity to him. Following his instincts, he wrapped his own hand around it and pulled Draco down into him.

He did not want this kiss to be as desperate as Draco's. Instead, he met Draco's lips gently and did not cling to his clothes as he embraced him., _He looks so like a porcelain figure that I shall treat him such._ Draco remained frozen for a second, his lips against Hari's, and then, relaxed. The kiss was chaste but lasted a lot longer. Draco did not writhe but remained quite still, absorbing it all, _That's it, my Draco. _Hari's hands glided up his back and settled in Draco's blond hair. He could almost taste the tears on his lips.

Gradually, they parted. Draco's eyes were wide and confused, still with traces of tears. Hari sighed and slowly sat up, still with Draco in his arms. His own dark hair spilled over his shoulders, brushing Draco's cheeks. It was a blissfully quiet time when they just stared at each other. The words were building up in Hari's head but he still did not speak them. He wanted to enjoy this time.

Draco seemed frozen, in a sitting position and supported by Hari's body. He was warm and comfortable. He did not encircle his arms around Hari, just stared at him, astonished. Deciding on making a move, Hari took the boy's smooth, slightly wet cheeks, "Do not say you wish to die. I forbid it." His face moved slowly forward so his right cheek rested against Draco's left. The tears had dried now and the skin was heavenly smooth, "Do not despair in my presence. I forbid it. For..." He licked his lips in anticipation, "...I love you."

He retracted his face. He had not planned any of it during his month away from him and he had certainly not anticipated Draco's reaction. For the boy's face crumpled, tears leaked out and, in a sudden movement and a wail, he buried his face into Hari's shoulder, sobbing. Hari's insides did a back flip, _Am I so inexperienced with love that I have hurt him without knowledge of it?_ On instinct, he furled his arms around Draco again, pressing his head into his shoulder in an attempt to stifle it. It hurt him to hear Draco cry. He wanted to run, hide, rob himself of hearing; anything to stop him wailing and howling,

"_Do not forget._" A voice echoed within him. And he knew who it was, _Meleniel, _"_Speak to him, Hari. Do not abandon him. Do not forget._"

He tightened his hold upon Draco. Even if he ran, he would take Draco with him. Not quite knowing why, he began whispering in his ear, "Do not weep, Draco...I will not hurt you again..." No idea came into his head to explain why Draco was crying so badly. This was what he wanted after, _The desire I planted within him,_ "...I love you, Draco...I love you..."

The flowers around them were lifting off the grass one by one, tumbling at first and then succeeding in becoming airborne. Their golden flowers clinked together again and the sound comforted Hari, _When did he receive the same gift as mine? Surely, this is a sign of our success as lovers!_ His shoulder was becoming soaked with hot tears and Hari stroked Draco's smooth hair.

Eventually, Draco's sobs subsided and he seemed to relax a little. Gradually, he moved back from Hari's body, his head hung and his whole body slumped under a burden of sorrow, "Please, Sire..." He breathed. He sounded exhausted, as though all that crying had sapped the last of his strength, "...do not make fun of me..." Hari gasped, "...I'm tired...I don't want any more of this...I can't take it anymore..."

"I mock you not!" Hari took hold of his face again but Draco flinched away,

"Please..." He turned away and made as though to stand. But, then, he fell sideways and collapsed. For one worried moment, Hari thought he might have fainted were it not for the low words, "...no more...The damage is done...Too much...Even if you mean it...it can't erase the pain I've been through..."

"Then, let me apply the healing balm!" Hari took Draco in his arms and let him rest on his lap. His lips pressed against his forehead and brushed his hair,

"Sire," gasped Draco, "stop it! This is torture."

"No, Draco. This is my love. What can I do to make you believe?" Hari had never predicted it would be this difficult to get through to him,

"You made me suffer," Draco glared at him while he spoke, "for four whole months."

"Then, let me give you four months and eternity of love." Hari replied, desperate for Draco's belief, "I give you my heart, my soul and my body to use as you will. Draco, I have always loved you yet I feared you would spurn me if I made advances." _I tell part of the truth. I will give him all but talk of the potion. _He could not help but close his eyes in pain as remembered, "I could not bare another one I love spurning me."

Draco put his head to one side, curiously, "Another one, Sire?"

"Yes." Hari nodded, feeling he could tell Draco, "My heart is scarred by one I loved but did not love me. It was she that turned my heart to stone and gave me the title 'Calasier Avamela'."

"Sire," Draco seemed to be trying to put it all together, "if you loved me, why did you act like that towards me?"

"Come with me." A plan formed in his mind and he stood, Draco still in his arms, "I shall tell you what I should have done long ago."

Draco's warm weight against him, he made his way to the exit. Draco made surprisingly little attempt to break free from him. He just stared up at him. He had to be put down to get into the carriage and he stepped in without complaint. As soon as Hari had closed the door, Helin set off towards Ariador, "Come, Draco. Sit by me." For Draco had resumed his normal seat opposite him. After a little pause, as though judging whether it was a trick or not, he consented and moved.

They reached Ariador without a word to each other and Hari led Draco out. Elves around them stared. It was customary for the servant to leave the carriage before the master. The lack of punishment astonished them even more. But Hari paid them no heed. Instead, he led Draco past the main doors and around the palace. There was a stairway connecting all the balconies and terraces in Forelen. Going that way, they would have better privacy that going through all of the corridors of the main palace.

This trick worked and they only passed a few elves, who only glanced in surprise at the return of Draco without staring. Draco himself followed on behind, saying nothing and just looking around at Ariador, _He has not been here for a month. Will he be pleased to see it? Or will he remember this place only as a place of misery?_ He wished he had the Rinatula like Noalith so he could find out what was going on in Draco's mind.

They reached the place, slightly breathless from lack of practice. Draco gazed around at it, taking everything in. Hari stood by the marble rails of the second-highest balcony of Forelen, "This-this is where..." Draco breathed,

"Yes." Hari nodded, "The place we first met. An apt place for our new beginning." Then, the vines were coated with frost. Now, all of the plant life was green and blooming so they had to be careful where they stood for fear of trampling something. Nimble elves were the best for this job but an unwary elf could still step on a bloom.

Draco stared at it, taking it all in. Hari smiled indulgently. He could not help but remember times when the Areola gardens delighted him every spring. Even now, those feelings were coming back to him, _Perhaps it is Draco that inspires these emotions within me. _Some of the flowers there preferred shade to bright sunlight. Yet, they were arguably one of the most beautiful blooms in the land. Which was why they were so lavishly planted on the second-highest balcony which provided some shade for them. The top balcony was really a window mirrored on one side so, accompanied by the hanging strings of ivy from the highest, it made a perfect hideaway.

Hari held out his hand and pushed back the ivy curtain. After the smallest of pauses, Draco took it and stepped through. It was cooler here and the statues of Fallena, Meleniel and Turil stood in niches in the wall in front of them, all with doves carved above them. The light from the mirrored window cast neatly assembled squares of light upon the green floor. One could almost mistake the place for a forest clearing and would never know that stone was beneath them rather than earth.

Hari guided Draco over to a gap in the vines on the floor where flowers bloomed from them most profusely. He sat down upon the surprisingly warm floor, cushioned by grass, and patted the space beside him. Draco lowered himself into a sitting posistion, still staring around him, _It must seem like an secret earthly paradise._ Hari moved his arm lovingly around the boy and pressed his lips against his forehead, "Do you like this place, Draco?"

"I lived here for three months," Draco breathed, "and yet I still never truly discovered this place."

"You could live here for a thousand years and still, Ariador surprises you." Hari agreed. Then, he cleared his throat, "Now, I shall give my story of how I became Calasier Avamela.

"When I was three hundred years old, I was a very different being to what you know of me today. I was young, carefree, as thoughtless as Uteire, as warm-hearted as Athara. I would frolic in the grounds and put guards out of patience with my pranks. Yes, that was I." He added, as Draco gave a little snort of laughter, "I was taken my royal parents to many places and, one day, they took me to spend a month in Lindaria with the royal family there. You know Lindaria, do you not?" When Draco nodded, he continued,

"Once there, I was confined to the embassy, since Lindaria is a dangerous place for a young elf to be. I obeyed for a few days. Then, bored to tears, I sneaked out to roam the suburbs. It was a noisy and crowded place with many traders and all sorts of creatures living in apparent harmony together. The life there astonished me. It is such a place where fights in the street are not uncommon and orc and Drow walked the streets without a care. I took my small dagger with me on my secret explorations but a greater danger lay there that I could not have imagined.

"After two weeks from my arrival, I met her. The fatal beauty that scarred me forever. She was a Wood elf and seemed too fragile and gentle to be in such a rough country. She was a beauty beyond all else. But, among all sweet wines, there is always poison. And I picked the poison. Poison that is not known until it roots itself deep within your veins before releasing its deadly power.

"So it was with I. I talked with her and, before I knew it, I was completely consumed with love for her. I cared not for time or place. I simply wanted to unleash all of my love upon her. I felt as though she was my Nienna, the one chosen by Meleniel for me, the missing half of my soul. So great was my love for her than I broke my word to Uteire and unveiled my identity. For I loved her so that I wanted no secrets to be kept between us. Alack," He closed his eyes for a moment. The memory of how foolish he was still pained him, "I was so young in love that I thought all love was requited and no passion went unrequited. It was nightfall by the time Uteire's guards found me and, by that time, I had already agreed to meet her again the next day."

It was only then did Hari realise that Draco had his arms around his body. One arm around his shoulders and the other resting on his chest. Still, he continued, "Again, I slipped past the strengthened security around me and went to meet her. I hoped to invite her to join with me in matrimony and went joyfully, thinking that the day would be as bright as the last. How wrong I was.

"I entered the place and looked around for her. I did not see her at first but I thought that perhaps she had gone somewhere else in the place, having lost patience. I was late, after all. I walked about the place and mounted a bridge between streets, as was common in the suburbs there. From that place, I saw her. Just as I was to call for her, the words stopped in my throat. For she was not alone. She was accompanied by a tall Drow some hundred years older than myself. She was laughing and looked so joyful.

"I attempted to reason with myself. It is perhaps a good friend, I told myself, or a relative that accompanies her for safety. But, I knew in my breaking heart the truth. As they approached my perch, they stopped and I could hear every word. 'Do you go to the little fool now?' asked the Drow. 'It would be better', answered she and her voice was so cold and loveless that I was affrighted, 'to deepen our deception. The lovesick little thing has told me that he is the Prince of Valivial already. He believes me a cherubim who can tell no falsehood'. The Drow laughed, laughing in the way that stabbed my heart a thousand times, 'He is a fool. Valivial shall be surrendered to us when he is King and you are Queen. But, tell me, do you have any feelings for the love-blinded thing?' And, answered she, 'No, never. He is a silly little Prince and will weary me.'

"In the street, in my eyes, they kissed with such passion that seemed to rend my being in two simply by watching. Had I not already been ripped to shred by their words. I stood, my alarm and astonishment seemed to seal me like a statue to my spot. Then, my grief rent its blow upon my wreck of a heart. I lifted my head and gave an unearthly and woe-ridden cry that did not express but a tenth of my anguish. The street froze as though Harivosl had thrown a veil over them. She and her Drow consort looked up at me and her lovely, now-spoiled face broke me anew.

"With pain-stricken droplets flying from my eyes, I leapt from the bridge and into the shocked street. I ran, hardly caring where I was going. So agony-racked was I that all my mind desired was to fly, fly and never see that face again. I fled through the suburbs, guards from the embassy pursuing me, summoned by my screaming, for I shrieked in my aggrieved fit as I cast myself forth. All I heard was her traitorous words in my head. I fled, bashing my head against walls in an attempt to drive her from it."

Draco's grip increased upon his chest and he leaned his head upon Hari's shoulder, "I left the suburbs and lost the guards in the wooded area on the other side of Lindaria. For it is a small isle or my broken heart made my being faster than the wind. The trees were abloom but spring could not touch my heart now. My weariness finally took hold of me when I neared the sea-cliffs. I stood for a second, staring out upon the tranquil ocean before me, and then collapsed upon the grass and fallen flowers, weeping. I wept myself almost to lunacy, curled upon the ground, wishing to grow smaller and smaller until I disappeared from this world. My cries sent birds from their nest in distress, so loud and maddened as they were that they could have been mistaken for the wolf's howl.

"Presently, I came to my senses, feeling as though I had wept out my very soul, so empty and hollow I felt. Perhaps she was right, I thought. Perhaps I did enact the fool and so drove her to consort with the Drow. Perhaps it was I who had taken Meleniel's gift in vain and was now being punished for it. I stood, for I had no more tears to shed and stood upon the terrible precipice before me. All other things in Valivial that I had so loved now seemed pale and unlovely in my mind. I felt as though I had lost everything. I had tasted paradise for a day and now, it was taken from me. I could never, ever go back to ordinary life." Even Hari was surprised with how much he remembered of that terrible time, "I spread out my arms, the wind pushing back my hair and clothes ready for my course, the fallen flower petals whirling about me, thought for a single content moment of how she was the previous day...and fell forward from it."

Draco grasped Hari even harder in fear, so consumed was he in the tale, "I must have lost consciousness as I fell for I do not recall reaching the water. I came to myself and it took me a little while to realise that I lived. I was lying upon the rocky shore overshadowed by the cliffs. Stranger still, I was not completely soaked by saltwater. My face was free of seawater, though my body from my shoulders was sodden. I stood and, realising I had failed in what I set out to do, I strode forth up the pathway to make another attempt. Still, it baffled me that I threw myself so willingly into the grasp of Garthiel and she threw me back out again.

"I returned to the cliff top and, just as I was about to reach the brink, I realised that I was not alone. A half-Drow, half-Elf, some centuries my junior, was sitting upon a large stone on the edge of the trees. He was the strangest being I had ever laid my eyes upon him. For he was completely unclothed but for his overgrown black hair, falling in coils around him. Though, I could not fail to notice his right hand was missing, healed over as though it had happened a long time ago. Through that, pale eyes stared at me. Though my despair had not lessened, I was curious of this creature.

"'You wish to kill yourself, Prince Hari Valedhiel of Valivial.' said the being. So shocked was I that I staggered. How did he know me when I did not know him, methought. As though I had spoken aloud, he answered again, 'Your mind intrigues me, Hari. You have fallen completely love and now wish to kill yourself when you are betrayed.' He scoffed and, though aggrieved and shocked, I was angered by his lack of respect to me, 'No need to act like that to me', he said, again, as though my thoughts were speech, 'for your title has no true meaning but in the public's mind.'

"At last, I felt I had to speak, 'How do you know what I think when I am silent?' asked I. The being answered 'I am a rogue of your enemy.' and held up the place where a hand should be, "'I am the bastard child of the Drow Lord Manastreth and I have stuck land today. You landed in my boat as I cast ashore and thus, it lies at the bottom of the sea now. I was not tossed into the sea for the Finned Crocodiles to prey on because I have the gift of the Rinatula. Your mind is like an open book to me...and I have never seen such a weak, unprotected and simple one.' I opened my mind to reply but he seemed to sense something coming, 'Forget me, Prince Hari Valedhiel.' Then, as a phantom, he vanished among the trees, leaving me upon the cliff to be discovered by Uteire's guards."

"What happened then?" Draco asked, quietly, his body pressed against Hari with more strength than ever, "Did you find that half-Drow again?"

"Not I." Hari shook his head, "I told the story that I was walking by the cliffs, decided to swim in the sea, got caught in a fierce tide that would have drowned me and an anonymous half-Drow had saved me. I could not tell them of my broken heart and I did not go from the embassy again until it was time to leave Lindaria. I had not yet recovered from my anguish and the words the half-Drow spoke remained in my mind. When it was time to go, Athara entrusted the reward for saving me with the Nimohtar of the land so they may find him. They found him and he now lives in Lindaria by the name of Noalith, the apothecary owner. When I next went to Lindaria, with great reluctance, he found me and we have been good friends ever since."

"And, do you know what happened to the girl? The one you loved?"

"I heard," Hari changed his tone to a cold disregard, a direct contrast to what he felt within, "that she was imprisoned several times for betraying husbands. I was just another fly in her web. It was that event that made me make the solemn promise to harden my heart and refuse all love. For love could only lead to misery in my eyes." He moved his face closer to Draco's marble visage, "Then, I saw you. The stone shattered and my heart was flesh, beating with love with you. I tried to stop myself. I tried to spurn you, I even pretended to court another as you know simply to convince myself that I could not have you." Hari gave a little laugh. He could not believe such falsehood came so easily. But it was a good falsehood nonetheless, "We have both made pretty fools of ourselves, have we not?"

Draco sighed and seemed to be preparing himself for something. Hari had not noticed that they had slid down the wall so much they were almost lying side by side, "My Prince-"

"Oh, do not call me that." Hari waved a hand, "Call me Hari when we are in privacy."

"Hari," Draco licked his lips as Hari had done before professing his love, "I promise to never betray you. I'll never make you so upset that you try to kill yourself. I accept your love and will do my utmost to return it for now, forever."

A gasp shook Hari's body. He had not expected this and these words hit him hard. He shook under the blow these simple, heartfelt words made upon him. Then, he had to turn away and hunch his body, "Hari?" Draco's warm, godsend hand laid itself upon his shoulder. Gradually, he turned back, trying to smile through the thick tears,

"Alack, alack." He choked, through sobs, "I thought myself stronger than this. Who knew that I could have so much water within me?"

The embrace came swiftly and almost caught him off guard. The both of them held each other tightly, savouring the sweet moment together. Draco stroked Hari's back as the elf sobbed onto his shoulder, "Don't cry, Hari." They remained like this for even longer than before and, when they separated, Draco's shoulder was soaked. Hari rubbed his eyes and looked through his shaky vision at the image of perfection before him. Draco looked concernedly back, "Is it true, Hari? Do you really...love me?"

_Oh, how can he ask me that after all this?_ Hari took his cool hands in a tight grip and looked him straight in the face, "With all my heart."

Their lips met and that was it. All reason to pretend, all reason to hate, all reason to run; they flew from their heads in that one moment. Now, they knew nothing but complete and incorruptible love for one another. Their bodies came together until there was almost no gap between them. And no gap was desired. They were one now. The perfect pair, the two halves of the soul, now come together in this blissful moment.

* * *

Draco lay upon the soft bed, motionless, his eyes still closed, _It was a dream. I dreamed the Prince came to me and said he loved me. I dreamed those kisses. _Still, he stayed that way. It had been such a good dream. There was a sound of a door opening and closing, _And there's Arawen to wake me up._ Footsteps came closer, a warm weight settled itself on his right side and then...heaven came again.

Warm, smooth, familiar lips pressed against his. When they lifted, Draco opened his eyes to the wonderful face above him, "Good morning, my _Nienna._"

* * *

A/N: Finally, Hari and Draco are together! Hope I did the love scenes okay, I was really worried about those. And, it's not over yet! I'm planning a prologue fanfic next so stay tuned!


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